Whiskers
by Rui
Summary: Helga was ready for anything. Working for Bob during Christmas, being alone for the holidays, etc...but not to become a foster mother to a litter of kittens...and under Arnold's roof.
1. Reason

Whiskers

Chapter 01

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><p><strong>Authoress' Note:<strong> This idea came to me because for the past, oh, six years I have been raising motherless kittens. I dedicate this story to those precious little babies and to my first baby, Simba.

All _Hey, Arnold!_ characters are property of Craig B. and Nickelodeon. This is for entertainment purposes only ^^.

* * *

><p>"<em>Please<em>?" The Hillwood High senior biology teacher, Mr. Spicson, pleaded with his class.

Those who were still awake looked away from the large brown puppy eyes the teacher was making at them.

"Like, totally take them to a shelter or something." One girl offered, "Like, isn't that what they are there for?"

The man sighed and sagged against his desk, "I tried but they said they were overcrowded and didn't have the man power to care for newborns."

Turning, the man picked up the small shoe box that had several cleaning rags stuffed in it to make a haphazard nest for the sleeping creatures inside. He drew back the top rag to expose three fuzzy bodies tightly balled together to preserve what warmth their tiny bodies generated.

"J-Just _look_ at them!" He pleaded, tilting the box carefully to show the newborn kittens to the class.

Only one person bothered to look, and it was only that person who stayed after the bell rang and Mr. Spicson had to clutch the box close to his chest in order to not have it knocked out of his hand by the fleeing teenagers.

Pouting, the man covered the tiny babies back up and hung his head.

"Mr. Spicson?" Arnold Short addressed, stepping in front of the distraught teacher. "I'll do it."

The man's head snapped up and his eyes nearly watered with gratitude. "_Really_, Arnold?"

Scratching the back of his neck, as was his nervous gesture, the boy shrugged, "Sure, I mean, I could try."

The man was nearly giddy with excitement as he bustled around the front of the class, collecting various papers that he had strewn about earlier.

"Spicson," came a familiar voice from the hall a second before the owner crossed into the classroom. "Mrs. Haulmeyer said you wanted the heating pa—" the rest of her monotone statement dried in her mouth as her eyes landed on the tall blonde who was glancing back at her. "Arnold?"

"Hey, Helga." Arnold acknowledged with a small smile. "What's up?"

Mentally slapping herself, she squared her shoulders and shoved the wrapped up heating pad toward the male teacher. "Here," she barked a bit harsher than she wanted. It took all her practiced indifference to _not_ stare at the other student.

"Oh, thanks, Pataki." Mr. Spicson took the proffered heating pad and a large stack of papers and shoved them all into a plastic shopping bag.

"Well, see ya." Helga gave a stiff half-hearted wave as she turned to leave.

"Pataki, I need you to stay and go over some things about the current assignment." He then looked over at Arnold and muttered that a few more pages probably needed to be printed.

Sighing heavily, the girl about-faced and marched back to the desk, letting her backpack fall from her shoulder to the floor in a _thunk _beforedropping down into his swivel chair. In order to keep her eyes off of the six foot one, swim champion Helga noticed the shoebox sitting at the edge of the desk. Curious, she hooked a finger over one side and dragged it toward her.

Her eyebrows shot up when she pushed the rags out of the way and saw three very small, very frail looking—worms inside.

"Fuzzy worms?" She questioned aloud to no one in particular, gingerly poking one of the darker ones with a finger.

"They're _kittens_, Helga." Arnold corrected. "Mr. Spicson found them in the alley today by the school. He said they were curled up with their mom but she was, uh, had been hit by a car or something."

Helga glanced up at the boy then over to the teacher then back down to the kittens. She gently started to stroke red stripped one with her finger, the kitten stirred and let out a few soft mews.

"There!" The man said triumphantly, grabbing the last of the print offs and cramming them in the bag. It wasn't until he went to hand them off to Arnold that he noticed a small problem, and instantly deflated.

"Oh, uhm, it might be a bit difficult with your—injury." He motioned down to Arnold's left wrist that was encased in a cast. "I—don't know if you'd be able to handle them."

As the boy sheepishly tried to defend himself as a fit foster-parent, since no one else was going to take the job anyway, Helga kept petting the newborns. A slender calico, a fat orange, and a delicate looking grey, all of them were trying to find food or warmth but not having much strength, only nuzzled each other.

She wasn't particularly impressed, until the orange one grabbed her with his tiny paw and gummed her finger.

Something in her heart warmed up as if Arnold had just smiled at her with his half-lidded, lopsided smile.

"I don't know—" Mr. Spicson scratched the end of his nose. "Maybe if you had help—"

"I'll do it." Helga piped up suddenly.

Both men turned their heads toward the female, both a bit slack jawed with their eyes clearly disbelieving.

"What?" She asked defensively.

"_You_, Pataki?" Spicson did nothing to cover up his astonishment. "_You_ want to—"

Rolling her eyes, she stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. "Crimney, you'd think I was going to _eat_ them or something. Gimpy can't do it by himself and I don't—," she stopped herself and then fixed them with a glare. "I said I would help so take it or leave it."

"Uh," Mr. Spicson looked at Arnold then to Helga, then back to Arnold. "If it's okay with you, Short?"

"Sure." Arnold finally answered; still shocked that _Helga_ would lend any type of helping hand instead of a fisted one. The teacher, completely dumbfounded by Helga and terrified for Arnold's safety, gave them some brief instructions and a journal to keep notes. Spicson only got a handful of words out to Helga about her last assignment before having one of the coaches come into the room and drag him out for a staff meeting.

Staring down at the 'fuzzy worms' Helga gave them a small smile, one that was almost bridging on tender. The smile probably would have completely tripped over the line into _motherly_ had not Arnold decided then to speak up.

"Uh," he started, "thanks for helping out, Helga. But I got to ask—why?"

The softness of expression in her eyes was shoved back into a vault in her heart as she let the mask of annoyance cover her features.

"Why not? It's not like I'm donating a kidney to them or anything." Arnold stared at her, patiently waiting for—something. "Or maybe I just want to raise them to sacrifice to the pagan god of my choice."

Arnold rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something but was cut short.

"Okay, first of all, football-head," Helga started sarcastically, "we are going to be raising _cats_ not _frogs_, so shut your yap 'cause we don't need the bugs." She emphasized her point by putting a finger under Arnold's chin and snapping it shut for him.

"Secondly, if you're going to insist on having a philosophical discussion about every choice I make, we might as well start chiseling their headstones." Arnold didn't appreciate the crude joke, but he got the point.

"Thirdly, I'm going to guess that if they've been without their mom for the past, oh, seven hours, their probably pretty hungry, as am I, and also bored with this conversation, as am I." She slung both of her backpack straps on one shoulder and reached down to pick up the small box with the squirming, mewing newborns inside.

"Anything else?" Arnold questioned flatly.

"Well, there is one more thing," she replied as she started toward the door.

"And that would be?"

She turned and glanced over her shoulder as she was leaving the science room, "Are you going to stand there all day or what?"

Arnold rolled his eyes and sighed. Grabbing the sack of provisions and paper Mr. Spicson had given them and followed after the blonde girl.

* * *

><p>They had decided to take the bus to avoid the cold and so the kittens could be as warm as possible. Arnold thumbed through the print offs, and plucked out those he found semi-useful. One had a list of basic needs when fostering motherless kittens which he had shown to his partner.<p>

Helga had taken it on herself to start looking up more information about the best products on her cell phone.

"Wow, Helga, nice phone."

Helga glanced over at Arnold with an eyebrow quirked in silent question before a smirk traced her lips. "It should be, bucko, I don't work at Big Bob's for the uniform."

"You work for your dad?"

"Yup, have been since I turned sixteen," she shrugged returning her attention to the cell phone screen, "it's a paycheck and free goodies that can only come by being an employee and, doi, the boss' kid."

Though he couldn't remember her name at home, Bob had quickly remembered her name at his emporium and it wasn't just because of the embroidered name on the black uniform shirt.

Since he reluctantly hired her, she had proven herself an excellent salesperson and had a talent of getting customers to open up a line of credit with the store, meaning they could buy _more_ than just with cash.

She continued to key in the letters on the search engine. On the outside she was the picture of cool, if not sarcastic, boredom to the boy beside her but on the inside the nine-year-old, smitten school girl was giggling and trying to stop herself from fainting with excitement.

Ever since the last year of Junior high, Helga had reeled in the bullying. No one made her, but it became too monotonous when it was what became _expected_ of her. She had growled and balled her fists but finally caged her attitude and starved it into a submissive version of itself. Arnold had been the first one to mention the change in her back then and she had just shrugged saying people changed.

"So, we need formula," Helga continued. "According to this, Quadruped Quick Care powdered formula seems the best option." A few more types later, "and it's sold at Dr. Traugher's office off of Pear and Keys."

"That's coming up soon," Arnold noted after checking the street signs the bus rambled passed. "She's a pretty good vet; I take Abner there when he's gotten into something he shouldn't have."

"Abner?" Helga parroted. "What's an Abner?"

"My pet pig."

She opened her mouth to remark when the bus made a shaky stop. Arnold jumped up, claimed both of the backpacks from between them before Helga could protest and offered his hand to help her up. She normally would have said no, but with the box in one hand and her cell in the other, she had to allow him to pull her up.

They stepped off the bus and Arnold pointed out the office and started in the direction.

Helga bit the inside of her cheek to fight down the blush that threatened to bloom on her face, "By the way, football-head, what's your cell phone number?"

"Huh?" Arnold blinked down at her.

"Ya know a cell phone," she waved hers in front of his face, "looks something like this? Tiny box, buncha keys, lets you _call_ people?"

"Oh," Arnold straightened the straps of the backpacks, "Don't have one."

"_What!_" Helga's pure shock glued her to the spot.

Arnold shrugged. "Don't have one."

Shaking her head, she jogged to catch up to him.

"Wha—why-who _doesn't_ have a cell phone these days! Do you even have an e-mail or do you use a chisel and stone tablet?!"

Arnold chuckled at her question, "I guess I just found other things to spend my money on."

Working in the electronics world, the blonde female was beyond baffled how anyone could even start to survive in this world with_out_ a cell phone. It was the very staple of society! Not to mention _sanity_.

"I can't believe you," Helga huffed. "You have a pig but not a cell? Is there anything _normal_ about you?"

"My grades?" He offered, gave a small grin and opened the door for her. She rolled her eyes and walked in, muttering, _still_, in disbelief.

* * *

><p>"So, my place or yours?" Arnold questioned smoothly in a low voice and with a barely masked smile of amusement.<p>

Helga had been in the mid-sip of her cola when he chose to ask, the cola didn't go down smoothly and left her coughing. Her cheeks heated up considerably as she turned to him with wide blue eyes and answered with a less than poetic, "_Huh_?"

Arnold let out a genuine laugh at her reaction. "I meant, do we take the kittens to your house or mine?"

She jerked her face away from his as she shoved a box of baby wipes into the cart he was pushing. They had gone to the vet's and received even more advice that required a trip to the local pet and grocery stores.

Helga had been so intent on reading the list of suggested supplies she was caught completely off guard by the horrid pick up line that was just an innocent question. Had he done that on purpose? Was he—_flirting_ with her?

Trying to clear the thoughts away, she decided to exercise her best weapon against any perceived threats, her tongue.

"Whatever floats your boat, football-head," she replied, it didn't come out as sassy or confident and she cringed. It sounded more like a girl who had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Daring a glance in his direction, the school girl in her sighed contently at the image of him leaning on the shopping cart, giving her a lazy smile with his gorgeous green eyes half-lidded. It was the same way he smiled since they met back in preschool but over the years it had become less innocent and more, dare she say, _seductive_.

Though she became less of a stalker over the years, she also had found more and more reasons to stay as crazy in love with him as ever. He was sill the kind, simple, and easy-going guy he'd always been but his looks, and his height, both shot up the charts at the beginning of ninth grade. Arnold would never be anything other than an Adonis in her eyes but _other_ girls started to notice him more and _that_ bothered her. To add icing to the cake, he'd also filled out with broad shoulders and toned muscles thanks to the many hours of swimming and basketball practice he'd endured over the years.

The only thing she would ever want to tweak would be his obliviousness when it came to the A-Bomb sized hints she dropped when they were younger.

"Then, since you insist on paying," _And nearly fracturing my other wrist to get your way_, he added on the inside "I say we use my house."

Helga only shrugged and led them down another aisle.

* * *

><p>"I'm a <em>Grandmother<em>!" Stella exclaimed happily as she peeked into the box at the sleeping fur balls.

Arnold and Helga blushed in unison.

They had barely shut the door when Mrs. Short stomped into the foyer where they were removing their jackets and demanded to know where Arnold had been. Helga had quickly answered they were shopping for supplies for the kittens, and then offered up the box as evidence.

With a quick explanation of how they came into possession of the tiny creatures, Stella was near tears. She beamed with pride at the two teenagers for having such soft, caring hearts.

Arnold rolled his eyes with a smile while Helga's face burned crimson from the compliment.

"Th-their just _kittens_, Mom," Arnold corrected, trying to cool his heated features.

"There more than that," the woman waved off his explanation with a smile. "They are my _grand_kittens!" She cooed at the babies, stroking their soft fuzzy heads with her fingertips.

Helga glanced up at Arnold, who only shrugged lightly.

"Just don't _stand_ there, Daddy," Stella smirked at her son, standing to her full height, arms crossed. "Your babies are hungry!"

Helga snickered as Arnold lost his casualness with a blush. With a stammered suggestion, Arnold told her to go to the room while he heated the water and mixed the formula. Still grinning at Stella's statement, the blonde girl made her way to the attic bedroom.

Opening the door, she carefully put the box of kittens and bag of supplied on the floor before seeking out an outlet to plug in the heating pad. Even if they had been kept warm by her body heat for most of the trip from school, she didn't want them to catch a chill. The vet had been very strict about keeping them warm and fed.

Scooping out each of the kitten with gentle hands, the girl then arranged the heating pad on the bottom, a placed one of the baby blankets they'd purchased (on clearance of course) on top of the pad. All the while she was doing that, the babies squirmed and mewed for food and comfort. Sighing, Helga crossed her legs in an Indian style, and placed them in the nest of her legs and lap.

"Hey, hey," she chastised as the orange one nudged his way into the small gap left by her foot and leg. "You're supposed to stay put, I'm sure Arnold-o will be coming up soon." She thought over her statement and with a sigh and roll of her eyes added, "Well, maybe not considering he is currently a one armed bandit."

"I _heard_ that," Arnold teased as he nudged the door close with his heel. "Everything ready?"

"Just waiting on _you_, slow poke," Helga grouched, but lacked venom. It was hard to be angry, or even feign it when she had her attention on squirming bodies that were trying to climb up her thigh.

Handing her the mug with a warning it was hot, Arnold joined her on the ground after fetching the papers Mr. Spicson and the vet had given them. His blonde eyebrows shot up when he read the pre-feeding expectation. Since he was only able to use one arm, the male fished out the baby wipes, handed them to the girl and then read off the first step.

"Your orphan kitten will need for you to—take care of _both_ ends. To do this, you will need to gently stimulate the bowels and bladder with a warm, moist cotton ball or baby wipe until the kitten has dispelled of his waste materials," Arnold was proud of himself for not allowing his voice to crack with amusement, having a fairly good guess of how his partner was going to react.

"I'm supposed to _what!" _Helga snatched the paper from Arnold's hands and scanned it. Pure horror settled over her face. "Th-that's disgusting!" She yelped.

He couldn't help it; Arnold burst out laugh as Helga's macho girl image snapped apart and went up in flames.

"We have to," Arnold pressed a moment later beating down the action to just a smile on his lips.

Helga looked over at him, her eyes wide in disbelief.

"No, _we_ don't have to, _you_ do it. I am only going to feed them, _you_ do the rest!" She pushed the baby wipes at the other blonde and crossed her arms in defiance.

"_Helga_," Arnold started, frowning. She turned her nose up higher and her head away further. "You know I can't do this." When she only answered him with an _hmmph_, he tentatively added, "_alone_."

Although he couldn't see it, Helga's eyebrows began to twitch as she fought with herself. On one hand, what he was expecting her to do was completely and utterly disgusting, on the other—he was _Arnold_. Grinding her teeth together, a noise of aggravation churned in her throat as her pride was quickly getting its head handed to her heart on a silver platter.

The breaking point was the soft mews still coming from the floor. They were _hungry_, and the best thing for them was to go to the bathroom and _then_ eat.

Full bellies, but empty bladders.

"_Fine_," Helga forced out between her teeth and she jerked around, grabbed the wipes and flipped open the lid. "But you _owe_ me, Football head."

* * *

><p>An hour later, all three of the kittens were contently sleeping in their warm, soft box. Helga had left immediately to scrub her hands once Arnold was sure he could put the babies back into their makeshift nest by himself. Offering her a drink after she exited the bathroom, she agreed and followed the male down the stairs. When Arnold pulled a Yahoo soda out for her to take, Helga nearly went green at seeing the brown liquid. Chuckling, he opted to give her a bottle of water instead.<p>

"So," Stella questioned, pouring out the hot water from her noodles, "How was it? Is it as much fun as you thought?"

"I don't know, I don't think I really thought about it before," her son answered honestly.

Helga's mouth twitched a bit when the question was directed her way.

"I have learned more than I ever _thought _I would about the genitals and digestive system of a cat," she dead panned, lip still ticking.

Arnold choked on his soda, and doubled over in attempt to keep the liquid from coming up through his nose as he tried not to laugh and cough at the same time.

Stella turned on her heel and beamed at the blonde girl. She remembered Helga from when Arnold was younger and always had a parade of children coming through the door. Though she only wore one ponytail and now had two eyebrows, the girl's feisty spirit and quirky moods were still the same as when she was a kid.

"Why don't you stay for dinner?" the woman offered eagerly.

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose and letting it out slowly through her mouth, Helga politely declined. Homework and housework couldn't be put off forever. Twisting her neck to either side, a series of pops and cracks resulted and the blonde sighed.

"Not to mention Bob would have a coronary to know I left his house unprotected for even _one_ night while they're gone." Helga shrugged, she was used to the impromptu Olga related vacations. Ever since her parents _remembered_ she turned thirteen, they'd been trailing after their eldest whenever possible.

"Did you just say 'by yourself'?" She questioned in a low, serious voice as she came very close to Helga.

"Y-yes, my parents are visiting my sister for a few months so I've been—"

"A few _months_?" Stella gaped, her hands on the younger female's shoulders. "They left you by yourself with _Christmas_ coming up? Were they even here for Thanksgiving?"

"Uh, no..." Helga replied, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. She flicked a glance at Arnold for help but found him with the same shocked expression as his mother had worn. "Olga lives in Madrid and I had school so—"

"I can't _believe_ it!" Arnold's mom put a hand to her forehead and the other over her heart. Then, within another tic, she was stern faced and steely eyed. "Then there is only one thing to do. You are going to stay _here_ until they get back."

This time Arnold and Helga's mouths fell open in unison.

"It's okay! I'm really fine by my—," Helga quickly started to defend herself but Stella pointed a finger a few inches from her nose.

"_Nonsense_! I will _not_ have one of Arnold's friends,_ especially_ a girl as sweet and pretty as _you_ staying by herself for the next month or whatever when she doesn't have to! There might not be much room, but you don't take up much space so I _will_ find a place for you!" The woman then placed her hands on her hips and gave her _the_ mother look. "Besides, the kittens, my _grandbabies_, will need someone who is able to use _both_ their hands to take care of them." With a slightly sympathetic expression and tone she gave her attention to the male, "Sorry Arnold, but it's the truth."

"I-I can just come by before and after school, really, I'm okay by myself," Helga tried.

"But I won't be! How will I be able to sleep at night knowing you are all by yourself?" Stella just grinned as Helga's mouth hung open uselessly. "So, you _are_ staying, right?"

The girl, again, looked to Arnold for support but he was still too busy trying to process what had just been said—no, _commanded_.

When all the answer Helga could manage was a mute nod, Stella clapped her hands and gave an enthusiastic grin.

"_Great! _Then it's decided!" She then disappeared into the hallway only to come back carrying both Arnold and Helga's coats in one hand and Arnold's truck keys in the other. "She'll need to pick up some things, I'm sure. Arnold, you'll go with Helga. I expect you _both_," she eyed Helga warningly, "back here in an hour, okay?"

"S-sure, Mom," Arnold agreed, taking his coat and keys automatically.

Five minutes later, both teens were in Arnold's truck, heat blasting and radio quietly playing a jazz rendition of _Jingle Bells_. It took longer to get to the Pataki's residence because of the snow and ice but soon Arnold shifted the truck into park.

"What the _heck_ just happened, football-head?" Helga finally managed to eek out.

"I—have no idea." He killed the motor and gave a soft chuckle as his eyes went into their normal half-lidded gaze as he turned to the girl sharing his bench seat. "You have just experienced what my Dad likes to call mom's Sergeant Stella mode. What she says goes."

Helga turned to him, her cheeks rosy from the heat so when he gave her a lazy smile, the blush blended in with it, unnoticed.

"Or stays in this case." He unbuckled, opened his door, and simply said, "Shall we?"

* * *

><p>Helga shook her head slowly with one hand covering her face with her fingers splayed apart as she muttered about her rotten luck. Heaving a sigh, she stripped and stepped into the waiting warm spray of the shower. Her day had gone from normal, to awkward, and had finally (hopefully) ended on flat out <em>strange<em>.

After returning from her house with a hastily thrown together bag of clothes and essentials, Stella had strong armed the two teens and her husband into fawning over the sleeping kittens. Miles, Arnold's dad, had made the appropriate remarks of cuteness and such that he must have known would appease his wife. Then, over dinner, which had been a circus act itself with Grandma Gertie wanting to swordfight with Miles, over the last potato, Stella had brought up the question where they should put their guest.

Arnold had turned beat red and Helga found the mashed potatoes sticking in her throat, causing her to gulp down her water in order to breathe after the woman decided Helga should stay in Arnold's room.

With a sly, dare one say _evil_, look, Stella added they would _not _be cohabitating the room, but Arnold would sleep on the couch. Helga had tried, in vain, to argue she'd be fine on the couch instead, but the older woman had her defense ready.

"No, no, it makes perfect sense." the mother gave the nervous teens a beautiful smile. "Since Helga has to be the main care taker she should be the closest to the babies, and I think Arnold still has his old Walkie-Talkie set so you two can communicate no matter where in the house, _and_ there is a small space heater so neither you nor the kittens have to ever be cold!"

"_And_ Arnold can make the milk for them and carry it upstairs. His wrist is fractured, not his leg." Taking a small bite of her chicken, she chewed thoughtfully, and then, after she swallowed, looked toward her husband. "It's the perfect plan, isn't that right, Miles?"

Miles, busily defending his green potato from his Gertie's knife on one side and slapping away a Oskar's attempt to steal his biscuit, nodded, "Whatever you say, dear."

How Arnold grew up here and was _normal_ blew Helga's mind away. Of course, the weirdness was softened and overshadowed by the overwhelming friendliness offered by the family and boarders.

Thinking about his family, the blonde's eyebrows clashed together in consideration. For someone like Helga to be bullied not once but _twice_ in the same day by the same _person_, it was a new and surreal experience. Never had she been so—so_ considered_ by anyone! Her own family dismissed her most days and she had learned to do the same to them over the years. Olga had attempted to make up for their parents' lack of interest but she had been gone for three years to Madrid.

Lathering her hair with cherry blossom scented shampoo, the blonde thought about her new duties as foster mother. So far, besides the grotesque job of having to coax the kittens into cleaning out their systems, things had been pleasant.

Moving on auto-pilot, Helga finished her shower and turned off the water. After drying and dressing, she cracked her neck with a sharp jerk to the side and steeled herself for whatever might be waiting outside the bathroom door for her.

Flicking the light off in the bathroom, Helga slung her towel around her neck and stepped out into the empty hallway. She turned on her heel in the direction of Arnold's room when a finger tapped her shoulder.

With a shriek of surprise, the blonde twisted around, hand over her heart as she heaved a few deep breaths.

"What was _that_ for, football-head?!" She snarled. "You just scared ten years outta me! _Sheesh_."

Arnold gave her an apologetic smile as she tried to quiet her thundering heart. A moment slipped by and after sucking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Helga turned her blue eyes to him.

"Whatdya want anyway, Arnoldo?" Before he could utter a syllable, she scowled at him and in an icy tone asked, "You weren't planning on peeking were you?"

The boy rolled his eyes and sighed, "_No_, Helga, I would never do that."

She dragged her eyes from his light blonde hair, down his bare chest (which she took a mental snapshot of), down his pajama pants with dancing pigs on them (to which she raised an eyebrow), to his feet, and back up again. With a wicked smile, she gave an impartial shrug as she turned on her heel.

"Too bad, you'll never know what you missed."

She bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud when Arnold sputtered in surprise. Sashaying to the steps leading to the attic, she paused, turned and gave him a quizzical eyebrow. The male's face was an impressive shade of red and with the way he was muttering under his breath, Helga couldn't help but let her laugh out.

Clearing his throat after he regained an inch of his composure, Arnold reached out his hand and offered her a small, thick black box.

"It's the two-way radio Mom was talking about," he explained, "All you have to do is turn it on, hold down this button to talk to me. I've already set up the frequency to match up with the one I have downstairs."

"Ah," was all she could think of to say.

"Well," he rubbed the back of his neck, a lop-sided smile pulling on his lips as he caught her eye. "Goodnight, Helga."

She blinked, blushed lightly and gave him a small nod of acknowledgement before continuing her journey to his room.


	2. Rhythm

Whiskers

Chapter 02

* * *

><p>To say that Helga was <em>just<em> grumpy was like saying that the Titanic or Noah's Ark was _just_ a boat.

The first night she had set her cell phone to get her up every two and a half hours in order to feed the kittens. Not wanting to wake up anyone else, the girl had even taken it upon herself to venture to the kitchen, prepare the bottle, and then climb back up the stairs.

By the second night, she was a _bit_ slower and worn down. Having had to work after school, she left Arnold alone with feeding and cleaning. She arrived at the Sunset Arms ready to crash from the exhaustion brought on by the frantic and harried customers of the Christmas season. When she clambered up to Arnold's room, she was struck speechless.

Arnold and the kittens were covered in white, sticky formula. His helpless, apologetic face didn't stop the groan from erupting from her throat. He explained the nipple had popped out, and doused the four of them. While he attempted to clean the kittens up, they mistakenly considered their milk smelling siblings as mother and began to suck on each other's ears, paws, etc.

Huffing, Helga dropped her backpack and purse on to the twin bed and ordered Arnold to make a new bottle as she dropped down, cross-legged near the messy group. Without any hesitation or fight, the male quickly climbed to his feet and shot out the door.

Picking up the fat orange kitten, Helga _tsked_ at the baby before popping open the baby wipes, grabbing a wipe and proceeded to clean off the white formula. After every kitten was passably cleaned and fed, the exhausted blonde set her alarm, made herself comfortable on the floor and dropped into a deep sleep.

By night three, Arnold had to use their hand held radios to make sure she was getting up. She had more than a few colorful words to share with him the first time he had done it, but afterwards, found that if she just did what was expected, she was able to return to bed much faster.

Though the kittens seemed grateful, the rest of humanity had to pay. Helga wasn't a morning person and Arnold had to drag her from the breakfast table that morning in order to make it to school on time. She napped on the bus, her head slowly falling forward only to jerk back up whenever they the bus ran over a pothole.

"Man, have I mentioned how sorry I am?" Gerald whispered as his girlfriend grabbed Helga's hand and quietly led her through the hallway. Phoebe, being well aware of Helga's brusque attitude, was able to take over directing the girl to her first hour.

"Yeah, you _have_," Arnold answered. He dug through his locker, attempting to balance his French textbook and binder in the crook of his injured arm while searching for his advanced physics homework. "But I feel sorry for Helga; she's the one who has it worse."

Gerald rolled his eyes and snorted.

"How can you _tell_? She's just as mean and rude as always."

Arnold grunted as he yanked on the recovered sheet, putting the top between his lips, and then slammed his locker door shut. Once his juggling act was under control, he shoved the homework into his binder and shrugged.

"She has good reason; she's been running herself down. She goes to school, works, and then comes back and wakes up at all hours to take care of the kittens."

"Man, do you realize how much you sound like a married man right now?" Gerald questioned, his eyebrows lifting. "Normally this would be weird enough to ignore, _but _with Helga G. Pataki at your _house _Rhonda is nearly wetting herself to see what'll happen between you and Candace."

This time Arnold rolled his eyes and shook his head as they walked to their first hour class, senior English. As they took their places at their desks, Arnold ran his good hand over his face and sighed. _Candace_, how could he even explain anything about or _to_ Candace.

They had been dating, off and on, since sophomore year. She would often call it off; go chasing some other athlete only to call him a few weeks later in tears. Though he liked her, there wasn't much past _just_ liking her. Being her boyfriend was more habit than affection. Gerald had called him a doormat, among other, less flattering words, after the second time the two had broken up.

When they were together, as they were supposed to be currently, Candace had a nasty jealous streak and often threw childish temper tantrums that left Arnolds ears ringing. It was okay for _her_ to flirt with every member of the football team, but should he give a smile to one of his childhood friends—it just wasn't pretty.

How he was going to manage to appease his girlfriend with Helga, another female, not only living under the same roof but sleeping in his _bed_, he didn't know. Lying wasn't palatable to him and, even if it _had_ been, he had no talent for it.

With shoulders sagging, Arnold fished out a pencil and redirected his thoughts to what the English teacher started to lecture on.

* * *

><p>By lunch, Helga was operating under the influence of several sugar packed products. Though Phoebe was always quick to remind her that such eating habits were not healthy, it didn't stop the blonde. The day was cold, but bright. The girls were bundled up in thick coats and decided to enjoy the sunshine in the courtyard.<p>

The only thing that seemed to make Helga perk up was when her friend inquired about her new pets. Smirking, the girl pulled out her phone and pulled up several pictures of the kittens. Something akin to pride was sparked deep within Helga's blue eyes and Phoebe smiled.

It was those rare flickers of true smiles and the brightening of her eyes that made Phoebe defend her friendship to Helga over the years. Ever since Gerald and she started dating, he had badgered as to why someone as sweet and smart as she could stand to be around the negative, bossy brat. Though she could never make him see, she could tell him all of Helga's good points—most of which he didn't believe.

When the lunch bell rang, alerting the students that it was now time for fifth period, Phoebe tilted her head to one side slightly.

"I meant to ask you, are you going to be able to attend my Christmas party this year?"

Helga let out a long suffering sigh.

"Sorry, Pheebs, but Bob made it clear that I, along with every _other_ supervisor, have to be there for the oh-so-important midnight blitz at the store."

The Asian girl winced and gave a sympathetic smile. Phoebe thought that Mr. Pataki was always a bit unsteady but keeping his store open until one minute to midnight on Christmas Eve proved he was far worse. He had ordered Helga to make the announcement, set up the ads, and basically handle everything herself why he was basking in the glory of the sun on some beach with his wife and older daughter.

Though her best friend never complained, Phoebe had often worried about Helga. She was sarcasm and sass on the outside but underneath, laid the sweetness and sympathy within a soft heart. And _finally_ Arnold would be able to see the tall girl as she was meant to be seen! No outside influences to play to and there wasn't the energy, currently, to keep the carefully sculpted mask of aloofness on every day and night for the next six weeks.

_However_, if Short _hurt_ Helga, Phoebe was more than ready to reintroduce him to the world of martial arts. He might have _been_ good, but she sported a black belt and several trophies over the years that stated she was _better_.

Helga noticed the brief, twisted smile on her petite friend's face and flinched away. She'd seen that look only _once_ when they were mugged—well, when they _almost_ mugged. Helga was sure the man's nose would ever be straight again and his partner doubtlessly was still singing soprano from the powerful kick Phoebe had landed before the girls ran away.

"Hey, beautiful!" Came a deep, familiar voice. Phoebe squeaked in pleasure as two arms wrapped around her shoulders and hauled her back against her boyfriend's chest. Helga rolled her eyes as Gerald leaned down to her friend's ear and whispered something that made the girl giggle nervously.

Not wishing to spend the rest of the day in the nurse's office to being nauseated, Helga punched the boy in the arm lightly.

"Where's your sports equipment?" The blonde crossed her arms and quirked an eyebrow. She had to resist the urge to tack on one of his many nicknames she created for him over the years due to Phoebe's request their freshman year. Also, the fact Helga was still uncertain _what_ had made Phoebe have the creepy smile earlier.

"Sports equipment?"

"I believe she means Arnold."

Gerald glared at Helga who smirked at him, "_Candace_ nabbed him just before the bell rang. Either they're breaking up, _again_, or making out. I don't want to know which, but if _you_ want to risk it, they were headed toward the biology lab."

"Later, Pheebs." Helga dismissed herself by spinning around and heading in the direction of the science rooms.

* * *

><p>"Come <em>on<em>, Arnold," Candace stuck her lip out further, trying to use the classic 'puppy face' on the male.

Rubbing the back of his neck and looking over her shoulder rather than _at_ her, Arnold felt himself wanting to cave under the pressure. It was in his nature to _want_ to help everyone out.

"Hey, Short, I need to talk to ya," Helga pointed looked at the irked junior and felt an icy grin form on her lips.

Shrugging, the blonde jerked a thumb over her shoulder, "Shouldn't you be getting to class, Price?"

Candace frowned, crossed her arms, and narrowed her eyes.

"We aren't at _work_; you can't boss me around _here_."

It was a sad, sad truth that Big Bob Pataki had hired Candace Price in the summer because 'pretty young faces sell more'. The only redemption Helga found in having to deal with the stuck up underclassman was that _she_ was over the girl. As a shift supervisor and one who made the schedules for a handful of the employees, Helga took great pleasure in tormenting the girl.

"Helga's right, Candace. We're all going to be late if we don't leave now."

Switching her glare from Helga to Arnold she stiffly picked up her purse from the teacher's desk Arnold had been leaning on, tipped her nose in the air and walked past Helga into the hallway. The older female watched as the sophomore sashayed into the crowd before turning her eyes back into the room.

Arnold had his head leaned all the way back, staring at the ceiling as if it was going to have the answers to unspoken questions.

"_Anyway_," Helga huffed out, "I was just comin' to tell you that I have to go to work _right_ after school. Daryl texted me and said something about a water leak and a box of smartphones."

"Okay," Arnold responded absently, still studying the ceiling.

"_So_ I need you to find someone to help you with the kittens," she continued, her ire rising at his apathetic attitude.

"Uh-huh."

That was _it_.

Stomping into the room, she stopped in front of the boy, grabbed the front of his shoulder, and twisted her fist into the fabric while yanking him forward.

"Wha-!?"

With an icy, hard glare, she forced him to meet her glare.

"Listen here, _bucko_," she ground out between clenched teeth, "You better get your head out of Candace's arse and back into reality. _I_ can't feed the babies, and neither can _you_. So you better figure something out before I get back tonight and so help me, if _anything_ has happened to them, there will be a resurrection of ole Betsy and the five avengers. _Got. It?_"

Blinking in silent alarm, Arnold cleared his throat as he hoarsely whispered, "O-okay, yeah, sure Helga."

One final pointed look and she released him from her grip with a small push.

"Good, now get to class." It took all her will not to storm out of the room, squared shoulder and muttering under her breath. She was used to being ignored by Arnold when _Candace_ was around, and found a great deal of pleasure interrupting their private conversation; _however, _he had volunteered to put three little lives ahead of _his_ and she was more than happy to remind him of that fact. The bonus was that it ticked Candace off to no end, at that thought, she grinned.

* * *

><p>"<em>Yes<em>!" Stella started as she puffed out her cheeks, looking something akin to a furless hamster. When she crossed her arms and leveled her eyes on her son and husband.

Both males swiveled their heads to each other than back to the simmering female. She stood a few inches shorter than each of them but somehow she _grew_ when she wasn't getting her way. Arnold had heard many times that though Stella was the sweetest woman he ever met, she was also incredibly stubborn.

When he was younger, the boy was amazed at his mother's power over his father, but whenever it turned on him, he found himself feeling like a mouse in a trap with an angry cat glaring down at it.

"_Honey_," Miles started, obviously used to her tactics and temper, "we are _men_. It's a very well known fact that _we_," he motioned between Arnold and himself, "don't _like_ to shop."

She changed expression to a blank mask as she spoke, "Who ever said you had to _like_ it? I just need you to _carry_ stuff."

"I'm broken, Mom." Arnold quickly held up his bandaged wrist and pointed at it with his free hand. "So I wouldn't be of any use."

"Traitor," Miles muttered under his breath.

Arnold purposefully didn't look at his dad's accusing stare when he added, "Besides, I have to watch the kittens. Helga won't be back until after four, and I can't leave them _alone_."

Stella raised a single eyebrow and one side of her mouth. "Of course, sweetie, I wouldn't let you abandon my grandbabies. They are only four and half days old after all."

Arnold said a silent prayer of thanks, turned to his dad, and clapped a hand over one of the man's shoulders.

"Good luck," with that said and before his father could weasel out of spending his Saturday as a shopping buddy for Stella, Arnold took the steps to his bedroom three at a time. Oh, his father would find some sneaky, harmless way of making his son pay but at least Arnold's day was now free of malls and hordes of sale-hungry shoppers.

As he shut the door, leaning heavily on it and exhaling deeply he checked the calendar and grinned. Only fourteen more days until Christmas and then, thankfully, his mother's shopping adventures would discontinue.

Checking the heating pad setting and the sleeping furry balls inside the box, he decided to spend his free time cleaning his cameras. He'd never thought much of photography when he was a kid, but after spending some time roaming jungles, swamps, and other various landscapes with his parents, the blonde had cultivated a passion for it.

Grabbing one of his professional digital cameras and the small plastic container of sensitive cleaning items, he sat cross-legged by the kittens and started to work in earnest on his task.

* * *

><p>Helga rubbed her temples with the tips of her fingers in an attempt to appease the beast of a headache brought about by stupid customers and bratty co-workers. It didn't help her hair felt heavy in the neat bun she wore it in for work. Like it or not, she had long <em>blonde<em> hair and for some reason a lot of people thought that meant she was either an airhead or looking for a guy. Often she had to bite down a sharp remark and stuff her hands in her khaki pants' pockets to make sure she didn't do something that would get her fired (or arrested).

Saturdays weren't meant for the recently hired. No, _that_ day was meant mature merchandise movers, and not the fresh faced newbie who would otherwise be a consumer casualty after a few hours. It was five before Helga was able to slip out the back of the store and make it to the nearest bus stop. If she tried to go through the front, someone would find her and want something. She was tired, cranky, and wanting to make sure her kittens were okay.

She trusted Arnold to do what was needed to be done, but she just wasn't too sure how fast he could get it accomplished. Even though they were tiny, the kittens each had sharp, pin-like tipped claws that often dug into her thumb as they suckled the bottle. With his injury, it probably would cause him more pain and make things take longer.

The thought of the cats had her bounding off the bus and moving at a steady clip toward Sunset Arms. She was still surprised that they never seemed to have the door locked. Any time, day or night, in the past four days, she never had to knock, just twist the door, and wait for the herd of various animals to sprint out and then step into the foyer.

Shucking off her winter coat, scarf, and earmuffs, she stretched as she slowly climbed the steps. By the time she reached the door to her borrowed room, she had stripped out of the black Big Bob's polo shirt and was smoothing out the thin pink sleeveless shirt she wore underneath. Twisting the door knob and pushing open the door, Helga's eyebrows shot up as her cheeks threatened to turn pink.

"Hey, Helga," Arnold greeted after he took a quick glance over his shoulder before returning to his camera.

She blinked, her blue eyes refusing to absorb what was before her. Arnold, her precious Arnold, was on his elbows and with his behind in the air. He was quietly humming something and ever few heartbeats he would wiggle around with his camera, adjust a setting or gently maneuver the blanket the kittens were sleeping on.

So much for thinking he grew up _normal_.

"What are you doing, football head?" Helga managed out as she kicked the door shut and dropped her work shirt on the floor next to her bags.

"I thought it might be fun to have pictures of them as they grow. They'll open their eyes and ears sometime next week," he explained as he shifted to the left. "Can you move that lamp a fraction to the left? Yes, no, a little more. Good."

Helga carefully dropped to a sitting position, making sure not to get too close to the set up to ruin it or to be part of the photograph. Ever since her brief stint as a model in their earlier years, she had come an expert at avoiding the camera's eye.

As she reached to smooth down a wrinkle in the blanket, as Arnold requested, the orange one suddenly stirred and began to mew. As he wiggled around, he woke up his siblings who lazily woke up and joined him in the cat chorus for food and attention.

"I didn't touch them!" Helga defended herself as Arnold used his good arm to push himself up and back onto his legs. Upon her statement he gave her the easy smile made her heart melt and the blush she'd been fighting flare to life on her cheeks.

"They recognize your scent, _mom_." He teased. "Since they can't see or hear, they have to rely on their noses and they know when 'mama cat' is near."

"Oh," Helga couldn't stop the edges of her mouth from tugging into a smile. It felt _nice_ to be special, even if they were just little cats. Scooping them up, she made herself comfortable as she situated the babies on her chest.

Arnold's smile grew in appreciation at the sight. His finger itched to push down on his camera shutter release; to capture the proof Helga G. Pataki _was_, in fact, human. Instead he excused himself and announced he was going to prepare their bottles.

* * *

><p>On Sunday, Stella had locked herself in the set of room Miles and she had claimed as their own to wrap the gifts she'd secured the day before. Arnold's dad had muttered something about recovering from the animalistic frenzy of the mall as he retreated to his office to work on the spring syllabus.<p>

Arnold lazed around, tossing a hacky sack up into the air and catching it with his good hand. Helga had been up and down, only when she had to take care of the kittens and then promptly crashed back into bed.

The various boarders were coming and going, bringing in smiles, shopping bags, and an occasional draft of icy wind. His grandma and grandpa had ventured out into the city to wrap up their Christmas buying. Arnold was just waiting for the call from mall security saying his grandma hijacked the Christmas train or tried to kidnap an elf again.

He smiled at the thought of how surprisingly spry his Grandma was for her age. He contributed to her active lifestyle and hyper imagination (senility was a possibility but imagination always sounded nicer). His grandpa was an equally as healthy shape from always having to chase after his eccentric bride.

Sighing, the blonde boy resigned himself to another hour of mindlessness as he tossed his toy up in the air.

Meanwhile, Helga wasn't as asleep as Arnold had thought. In truth, she had napped on and off throughout the morning but was staring blankly at the skylight, watching the thick grey snow clouds move lazily above her.

Homework was done, work wasn't until tomorrow (and just to insure that it wouldn't creep in to her schedule she had turned off her phone), the kittens were content, full, and sleeping. What was there to do? If she was at her _own_ house, she'd have something to do…right?

Rolling her eyes, she decided to do what she tried so hard _not_ to in the past five days. She was, after all, in the _Mecca_ of Arnoldum and it would be an insult to him _not_ to poke around his room. This was the first time in her life she was in the room by herself for a long period of time—_with_ his knowledge.

Sitting up, she first started to inspect his shelves. Books, some family and friend photos, (none of Candace she noticed with an arched eyebrow) his ancient potato powered alarm clock, and other odds and ends he had collected over the years.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she took a deep breath before rising to her feet. The décor hadn't changed _much_; everything was still heavily blue or dark green with accents of vibrant red thrown in. He had traded his smaller furniture for more adult sized pieces. His computer desk (sans laptop since he needed _something_ to do since she had invaded) was a heavy looking wooden one with two long drawers. There were a few pens and magazines on top, but other than that, was bare and tidy.

Helga frowned; his entire _room_ seemed personally impersonal. Maybe it was just tidier than she was used to seeing. Cringing at the thought of her own room and the various piles of clothes, crumpled papers, soda cans, shoes, and literature books, she noted that perhaps he was just neater than her.

Checking on the kittens which they had finally decided to name, she was careful not to get too close unless they smell her and all heck break lose again. She smirked as she remembered the fight Arnold and she had had the night before over names.

She chose Gunner for the orange tabby, "Because he was the one who keeps shooting me when I have to make them pee," the blonde girl stated flatly when asked why.

Arnold named the calico, "Noel, since it's close to Christmas."

That left the slender grey. It went from a half hearted play fight to a full blown silent glaring contest over what to name the last kitten. Stella had come up the stairs when all went quiet in fear that one or the other was trying to stuff a body into the closet—or that they were finding better uses for their mouths.

The comment had the two teens blushing a deep shade of red while staring in opposite directions. The woman had laughed and handed them a book on baby names with a wink before declaring that a late supper of pizza would be ready in about an hour.

By the time that the delivery man had come, they finally came to an agreement. The name picked for the last, smallest kitten would be Olivia.

With a jarring shriek of laughter that Helga easily identified as Arnold's grandma, the girl sighed and decided to see what type of chaos this lazy afternoon was going to erupt in.


	3. Resistance

Whiskers

Chapter 03

* * *

><p>"<em>Helga<em>."

"Price," Helga returned, not even bothering to look up at her co-worker. No one else at the store would _dare_ say her name with such icy venom.

"We need to talk," Candace announced, crossing her arms, and leaning against the check-out counter. The computer Helga was furiously typing on was situated close to the cash registers in case there was a need to order something for a customer.

"Is this store related?" Helga shot back, eyes flicking from her request for inventory sheet to the computer screen.

"No, this is about Arnold, _my_ boyfriend."

The blonde was thrilled when the mention of his name didn't make her outwardly flinch, but with the possessive claim to him made by the other girl, she rolled her eyes. She really did know this was going to come sooner or later. It had been a week yesterday they took in the kittens, and though she secretly hoped Candace wouldn't find out until after the holidays, it seemed fate was working against her.

"Why are you hanging around him so much at school?"

"Straight to final Jeopardy, huh?" Helga replied sarcastically. If she could distract the girl or at least irritate her enough, Helga knew she'd be able to dance out of the conversation with her secret and dignity intact.

"I mean it, Helga!" The younger girl's pout could be heard in her voice and caused Helga to box her shoulders. She never was one for girly-girls, as Rhonda loved to point out, and often felt weird when she was around one that emitted estrogen strong enough to choke a horse.

"What was the question again?" Helga sighed.

"Why are you and Arnold so close lately?"

"Because we are raising our three young ones together," Helga deadpanned, glancing up at the other female.

"What!"

"Customer," Helga smirked as a random person approached the counter, arms loaded with all sorts of electronic goodies. The girl might have been one of the most annoying, flirtatious creatures ever to cross her path (or maybe it was just because she was dating Arnold, who knew) but she did recognize that she was still at work and whatever complaint and commotion Helga's comment caused would have to wait.

Clicking in the last of the order from the sheet, the senior turned, smiled to the next supervisor, and in a voice clear and loud enough to be heard by Candace of the beeps of the register announced she was going home.

She had to feed her babies.

Was it evil?

_Yes_, yes it was.

Was it going to get Arnold's ear chewed off?

Most likely.

Was Helga loving it?

Ohhh, _yes_.

* * *

><p>Arnold felt weird. He didn't <em>like<em> to feel weird. The only one who could make him _stop_ feeling weird wasn't around, and that was part of the weirdness.

Two hours ago he had a call from his hysterical girlfriend demanding answers about some children she claimed he had with Helga. For all her insistence that he tell her what was going on, Candace then started to cry before hanging up on him without the boy being able to get two words out.

He had held the phone, staring at it as if he had never seen it before in his life. There went his easy Tuesday night. After his brain digested the quickly spun accusations and came up with a hypothesis that might have set Candace off, he frowned. Apparently Helga was playing tricks with his girlfriend.

That or one of Candace's many, _many_ friends spied Helga leaving his house—but how did they find out about the kittens? He had volunteered _after_ class, didn't talk to about it to anyone, save Gerald. Helga wasn't one to go around parading details (at least about _her _life) and, he guessed, only told Phoebe.

Shaking his head as if to clear away the questions that were slowly taking over his thoughts, he glanced back at the old clock in the corner and sighed. Where _was_ she?

Anger from what he only assumed she did was slowly fading to worry as time passed. Helga said she'd be off by nine, so that meant, in truth, _ten_. Taking the bus would put her at the Sunset Arms thirty minutes later, so ten thirty. It was now, Arnold confirmed with the clock again, five minutes until midnight.

The weirdness of anger, worry, and slow rising panic was making him pace like an expectant father. Groaning he decided that he needn't think about it in _those_ terms due to the Candace-accusing-him-of-having-children ordeal.

Helga could have called!

He didn't have a problem with taking care of the kittens, but had a hard time doing it alone. Even though his mother dubbed them her 'grandkittens' she made it clear to both 'parents' that they were their responsibility. _Her_ responsibility was to spoil them rotten when they got old enough.

Helga had a cell phone; she could call at _any_ time!

Running his good hand through his hair, he balled his fist, and pulled lightly. She was _late_ and it was a school night. He rolled his eyes at that line of thought.

_Why_ should he even be _this_ bothered by her being late?

Arnold stopped in his tracks, and locked his jaw. Studying the clock for the final time, he growled as he went to the hall closet, jerked open the door, grabbed his coat, and slammed the door shut. Stiffly he pulled on his thick coat, and fought to keep the more logical (or lazy) part of his conscience quiet.

His normally relaxed expression was tense and eyes narrowed, Arnold turned to the front door just as the object of his prickly anxiety and blooming headache pushed the front door open.

Helga felt like she had been shoved down the garbage disposal with week old left overs, forced back up with a fowl smelling plunger, and then ground up again. The last thing she expected was a sour expression and tapping foot on Arnold.

Leaning on the door, she let her weight shut it, blindly reached back, and locked both the knob and deadbolt.

Arnold hadn't moved an inch, and Helga sighed.

"What are you—"

"_Where_ have you been?" Arnold demanded.

Tired blue eyes narrowed on a set of furious green. She shoved herself off the door, and drawing up strength from her pride and exhausted nerves, she managed two determined steps before straightening up to her full height.

"_What_ is your problem?" She growled, crossing her arms firmly against her chest.

"My _problem_," Arnold returned firmly, "is that you were supposed to here _two_ hours ago, Helga! You _never _take this long coming home! Where were you? You didn't _call_, aren't you always going on about how great cell phones are? So you should have called."

If it hadn't been for the tone, she was sure his words would have invoked a dreamy, sigh filled poetry moment in her brain. As it was, she rolled her eyes and decided to postpone the fantasy and deal with her ever harsh reality.

"You wanna know where I was, football head? I went to my _house_ because I haven't been there in a _week_." Helga unfolded her arms and started to poke him in the chest with every stressed word. "I didn't _call_ because I spent the past _hour_ on the phone with my dad. He was _furious_ I left the house without telling them, the only reason I'm not _still _there is because I pointed out I would be _safer_ here and it would cut down the cost on his utility bills."

She reached up and yanked the pink beanie from her hair, balled it up and shoved in a pocket of her coat.

Arnold stared down at her, his good hand still fisted at his side as the weird feeling churned and added relief at her appearance but annoyance at her disregard for his—his _what_? Worry? Yes, that's right, his worry.

"Look, Helga, I didn't—," he took a long, slow breath before forcing himself to sound calm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to jump on you, but I _was_ worried."

Helga grunted, stripping off her wet coat, and hung it up on an available hanger. Her eyes were burning from the mental drain and emotional rollercoaster she had to endure for the past week. To be ticked off at Arnold was always a safe, familiar road to travel. It was one that she knew, sadly, by heart and could walk blindly down without fault.

"Whatever, Arnoldo." She untucked her uniform shirt and glided by him only to stop at the base of the steps and snap her fingers. Arnold turned at the sound. "_Doi_, if you were _so worried_ why didn't you call _me_? Oh!" She pretended to hit herself on the forehead, "That's _right_, you never _asked_ for my phone number. Silly me." With a pointed look, she continued her journey up the stairs.

"I was _just_ worried about you, Helga!" Arnold repeated.

"Don't be, you're not my _dad_, football head," Helga returned in a sing-song voice from the second floor.

"No, because I actually _care_ what happens to you," he muttered softly under his breath, before slipping off his coat.

* * *

><p>Miles Short knew when to hide behind his morning paper and ignore the world on the other side of it. Indeed, there were times when he read the same article four times to prevent from having to partake of a particular conversation he felt would not end well for him. It wasn't a cowardly move more an act of survival.<p>

One did _not_ get raised by Gertie Short and _not_ learn some strange, yet important things about life.

Also, being a professor at the local university had given him a deep insight to the shallowness that most young adults mucked around in. He had been witness to more than one standoff between students and had the reluctant duty of escorting a few before the dean when things got physical.

He truly doubted the battle of wills going on beyond his paper would be anything physical, but it didn't mean he wanted to catch notice of either deadly predator. They could _smell_ fear and he would rather keep his head on his shoulders, thank you very much.

Stella, on the other side of the paper and spectrum, kept volleying her gaze from her son who moodily poked at his eggs while her houseguest, Helga, kept glaring at her cereal (when she wasn't fighting to keep her eyes open).

"So, how are the babies?" Stella ventured, sipping lightly on her tea.

Helga's icy blue eyes snapped up to Arnold and with a sardonic voice asked, "Yeah, _Dad_, how _are_ the babies?"

Arnold closed his eyes for a heartbeat (most likely to roll them), before opening them up and returning Helga's glare.

"I wouldn't _know_ since someone's locked me _out_."

A mocking grin spread across her face, "Perhaps you should _call_ ahead for reservations?"

Stella watched as her son did his best not to let his usually lethargic temper rise up.

"Or _maybe_ I should _be_ called since the captain of the guard's number is unlisted."

"Oh, dear, is that the time?" Stella pondered out loud, staring at her wristwatch with a faked expression of surprise. Arnold checked out his own watch and groaned, before he gathered his bag and quickly went to the door. Helga stood, stretched, slung her backpack on, and marched after the boy.

Once the door slammed a few minutes later, Miles felt it safe enough to remove his papery wall of protection.

"What is with them?" Phil questioned as he strolled in, glancing over his shoulder where the teens had just left. "I was waiting for a wrestlin' match to break out."

Miles shrugged.

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, the elderly man sat next to his son and picked up a part of the paper to read.

"I heard some shouting last night," Stella confessed. "Apparently Helga came home late and Arnold was upset about it." With a dreamy smile and sigh, she added, "Young love is _so _sweet to watch bloom."

Miles and Phil both lowered their papers and stared at the woman waiting for her to laugh at her own joke. When a minute flittered by and Stella still kept a wistful smile on her lips, the men turned to each other seeing if perhaps the other one caught something, but when Phil shrugged, Miles ducked behind his newspaper again.

"Do you remember how I convinced you to ask me out, dear?" The brunette woman quizzed.

"You mean when you threatened to pelt me with coconuts unless I took you out on Friday night? Yes, I remember." A funny little smile kicked up the blonde man's lips as he stared at his wife. "I took you out and I still ended up with a coconut flying at my head."

"It was a _grapefruit_ and you deserved it. After all you _were_ ten minutes late," she reprimanded. "This is the same thing with Arnold and Helga," she winked and started to clear away the breakfast dishes.

"Pop," Miles addressed after his wife left the room to attend to some of the boarders. "Why is it that the Short men attract violent women?"

"Because we are too darn good lookin' for our own health, son."

Accepting the answer, Miles nodded and wondered if his son was aware of the he was building for himself with Helga.

* * *

><p><em>Awkward<em>, yes, definitely _awkward_ was the correct word Gerald was looking for as he sat between Arnold and Helga. It wasn't _his_ idea to he sit between them, oh no. His idea was to sit to the back or front on the _other_ side of Arnold. However, he was not able to fight his girlfriend on the subject when she pinned him with her pout.

Curse the pout!

And curse the principal for wanting to hold an assembly today!

Tugging on the collar of his shirt that suddenly felt tighter, Gerald did his best to focus on what the vice principal was cheerfully relating to the group of antsy (none more than himself) and bored students.

Arnold was reclined in his seat, eyes straight forward as if paying attention, but the glazed over expression in his eyes clearly indicated he checked-out for the time being. While on Gerald's right, sat Helga much in the same pose as Arnold but with her arms crossed and head bowed, asleep.

Phoebe was on Helga's right and the only one who seemed to be paying the slightest bit of attention to the speaker. Sighing, Gerald propped an elbow on one of the hard plastic arms, and rested his cheek on his balled up fist.

His mind was slowly taking flight when the unexpected vibration from his back pocket had him jerking upright with a squeak. A few students eyed him before going back to whatever they were doing, Arnold raised an eyebrow, and Helga glared at him for interrupting her nap. The two blondes chanced a glance at the other, met gaze, and yanked their faces in the opposite directions from each other.

Burring down in his seat again, Gerald fished out his cell phone and with as much stealth as he could manage, checked to see what had made it go off.

_New Text: Phoebe_

A quirked eyebrow and quiet glance over at his girlfriend, who appeared to never have taken her eyes or attention from the front, and the male shrugged. Tapping the screen to open the message, he read it and fought back the urge to groan.

_Talk to him. Find out what happened. _

He pinched his lips together and shot his eyes to the petite girl. She gave him a heartbeat of a glance and smiled. When Gerald firmly shook his head 'no', the smile melted and an unhappy glint flickered to life in her dark eyes.

The boy was _well_ aware of what _that_ look meant. It meant all he'd be getting for Christmas is the cold shoulder and spending New Year's with the silent treatment. Shoulders sagging in defeat, Gerald leaned slightly to his left, to insure at least a little privacy.

"What's up, man?" He whispered to his best friend.

Arnold shot him a curious glance.

"What do you mean?"

Rolling his eyes, Gerald leaned over a smidgen more and with a harsher whisper, "What do you _mean _what do I mean! I'm gettin' freezer burn sitting between you two."

Arnold let a small frown form on his lips, as he ignored the question with an 'hmmph'.

"Don't do this to me, Arnold. If I don't figure out what is going on, Phoebe is going to make my life miserable," Gerald pleaded.

Arnold tipped his head to the side, looking at his friend's face.

"Why would she do that? It's between Helga and me." At the sound of her name, the blonde girl's head snapped up and her eyes opened wide, frantically she searched for the source of the voice. When the sleep fog cleared enough from her thoughts, she narrowed her eyes on Arnold.

"Keep it _down_, football head," she muttered darkly.

"Maybe if you didn't stay out _so late_, you wouldn't be so tired," Arnold shot back, the simple frown evolving into a glower.

Gerald sunk as far as he could in his chair, desperately wishing he could disappear. As it was, he could only hope not to catch the attention of either of the blondes. Arnold rarely got mad, but somehow Helga could always hit just the right spot on his best friend to send the docile boy into a fit.

"Well _excuse_ me, but not everyone can have everything handed to them on a golden friggin' platter!"

"_Shhh_," came a wet command from behind them.

Already irritated, the girl turned in her seat, tucking one knee under her for leverage as she eyed the group of underclassmen behind her. Narrowed blue eyes switched from one body to the next until, with a shaking finger, a girl pointed to the boy beside her. Clucking her tongue to catch his attention, he shifted worried eyes to her.

"You wanna try me, bucko?" Helga snarled at the daring boy. Gulping he shook his head mutely and then promptly looked down at the floor. "Didn't think so."

"_Helga_," Arnold admonished.

"Pataki! Short! Shut it!" Coach Gibbonswreath barked. "Or you'll both be spending the next week cleaning the gym with toothbrushes!"

Both teens shrunk down and replaced the heated argument on pause until they were somewhere they could properly shout without the threat of detention.

Letting out a silent breath of relief, Gerald made sure to capture Phoebe's eye with a stern 'I-told-you-so' eye twitch. Smiling sheepishly, she mouthed an apology and then refocused on the speaker.

* * *

><p>"That's <em>all<em>?"

Peeking from under her hat, Helga squinted one blue eye at her friend who was standing next to the bench the blonde chose to lie out on.

"Isn't that _enough_?" she replied, pulling her pink skull cap back over her eyes, crossed her arms behind her head to use them as a pillow. Though stubborn in her own rights, the taller female knew when to throw her hands up in the air and admit defeat to Phoebe. This was one of those times.

The silent treatment Helga opted to give Arnold in front of his family was something she was slightly annoyed at herself for doing, but her pride had to remain intact (if not overbearing). Refusing to be rude to her hosts, she always managed to speak _around_ their son, which served to irritate him more if the dark look meant anything. It might have seemed childish, but she wasn't used to someone challenging her independence and self-sufficiency.

If nothing else, she had inherited the stubborn Pataki pride and headstrong will (along with the unibrow, even _if_ it was kept neatly plucked in to _two_ eyebrows these days).

"Hmm," came the thoughtful reply. "I see."

_Here it comes_, Helga sighed out mentally and prepared her mental defenses against the battering ram of logic Phoebe was sure to use. Minutes ticked by in silence and when she felt like she was going to explode, demanding for her friend to get on with whatever well thought out defense she had for Arnold, the petite girl spoke.

"You know what I think, and you can say I'm wrong, but I think that you don't know how to take someone caring about you."

Helga sat straight up as if doused with ice water.

"_Caring? _Whoever said he _cared_!" Helga shrilled, eyes wide, and cheeks pink. "He only said he was _worried_."

Phoebe gave a small grin and held up her hands in surrender.

"Okay, _worried_ about you," she amended.

Satisfied, Helga reclined back into her original position with a sigh of relief.

"Still," the Asian girl continued, not one to be easily distracted. "Your reaction isn't from his tone, you have been subjected to worse in tone and words, but it is the concern he stated he had for you." Helga offered no defense. "To put it metaphorically, I believe you being in a household not your own is like trying to figure out a new phone for you. Though you are acquainted with the basics of the numbers and functions, it is the operating systems, the different applications, and so on that you having trouble dealing with and adjusting to."

With a silent nod, Phoebe glanced down at her friend who was unmoving but if the snort and following grumble meant what it usually did, the girl hit the proverbial nail on the head.

"Now that you know, maybe you should make an effort to ease his worry. You are used to being _not _worried about, Arnold is used to caring. Which one do you want to change the most, his outlook or your own?"

* * *

><p>Arnold's eyes snapped open. Blinking to try and focus on the shadow blue painted ceiling of the living room, he tried to grasp what had woke him up. His mind refused to properly thinking at whatever dark-thirty hour it was and he felt his tenseness of suddenly waking starting to slip back into an easy rest.<p>

"_Hey, Arnold_!"

Oh, _that's_ what must have jarred him awake.

Groaning, the boy kicked off the sheets, swung his legs over the side of the couch, sat up, flicked on the lamp, and picked up his handheld radio.

"What's wrong, Helga?" He questioned lazily with a voice husky from sleep.

There was static for a moment and he wondered if she was just enacting some childish prank.

"Uh," came a reply, "I—come up here!" She ordered. "You need to come up _now_."

"Is it the kittens?" Arnold asked, now fully alert with worry over their small charges. "Are they okay?"

"Just get _up_ here, football head."

Without thinking about anything else, Arnold clambered to his feet and took the steps three at a time, not even caring that the _thumps_ his frantic feet were making could possibly stir the rest of the household. When he burst through his bedroom door, breathless, and having already compiled a long list of horrid things that could possibly be wrong, his eyes automatically landed on Helga.

"What is it?" He asked, hurrying to Helga's nest of pillows and blankets she made next to the kittens. "What's happened?"

Helga glanced up at him and to his surprise a smile bloomed across her features. She held up the gray kitten, Olivia, and told him to see for himself. Confused, the boy gently took the kitten from her hands into his cast covered palm. The baby mewed in protest about the delay of her feeding and then at being turned, flipped, and poked by the curious teen. Finding nothing bleeding, oozing, or protruding, Arnold glanced up at Helga who was cooing over Gunner, the orange male.

"She seems fine," Arnold drew out.

Looking up from the orange fur ball, Helga put Gunner in her lap next to Noel and plucked Olivia from Arnold's hold.

"You goof," she chided, turning the kitten's face to his again, but this time, leaned forward until the two were nearly touching noses.

One black eye blinked back at him, as a tiny mouth let out another cry for food.

Arnold studied the small face for a few heartbeats before his realization back handed him with the obvious difference.

"Her eyes! They're opening!" Arnold proclaimed happily, taking the kitten from Helga once again to cradle her against his chest. "This is so awesome!"

Helga nodded with a proud grin on her face.

"I just noticed when I woke up; I thought you'd—like to know." For a moment, her smile slipped as the joy of the moment was slightly overshadowed by the unsettled disagreement between them. Biting the inside of her cheek, she glanced down into her lap where the calico and orange kittens were trying to wiggle their way to milk.

"I have to get my camera," Arnold carefully settled the kitten in her box and was soon rummaging around in and setting up his photography equipment.

Pushing the gloomy thoughts edging in to this brief moment of cease fire, Helga decided to focus on the kittens instead. Picking up Noel, she gently nudged the tip of the nipple into the kitten's mouth. A few failed attempts and the baby latched on and started to suckle.

As hectic and sleep depriving as it was to play mother cat, Helga found the time when the little ones needed her somehow the most relaxing. Her expression softened as her focus went completely to the little body in her hands.

She was even oblivious to the random clicks from Arnold's camera and the identical expression to hers he wore as he focused the lens on the girl and pressed the shutter.


	4. Rounds

Whiskers

Chapter 04

* * *

><p>Throwing the cell phone into her purse, Helga was eager to bolt from the store before seven o'clock hit. For her to be able to get off early on a Friday was nothing short of a miracle (and an utter sin according to Bob). Mrs. Short had promised to make cinnamon rolls and if she wasn't there as soon as they came out of the oven and glazed, chances were she wasn't going to get <em>any<em>.

That was just not an option in Helga's book.

Shoving her purse into her backpack before she slung it on her shoulders, Helga started to walk through the store to the front door. Mark and DeWayne, the other supervisors, were on the clock and could tackle anything for which an employee might stop her.

When she spotted a familiar ponytail stocking car radios, she paused.

There was still _one_ thing she needed to do.

It wasn't like she _wanted_ to do this. No way. She was more than happy to let the carefully worded statement linger in the limbo of the misunderstood and act like a brick wall between the couple for as long as it would stand. However, something in her heart wouldn't allow her to cause Arnold any more discomfort than she was already.

Sighing, Helga massaged her forehead with her fingers as she tried to formulate a way to clarify the situation to Candace while appearing to remain cool and indifferent to everything.

Pride was great to parade around but when it had to be swallowed, it felt like glass and salt water going down.

No, she had decided that she would apologize to Arnold by clearing things up and this was part of that. Who cares if this brought Candace and Arnold back together? (Besides her). Who cared if he would probably spend all of Christmas and New Year with his girlfriend? (Again, besides _her_)

No one, (excluding Helga) would!

Steeling herself and marching to where Candace was ducked down, pushing inventory to the back and filling in the spots with back order, Helga stopped and crossed her arms against her chest.

"Hey, Price."

Helga fought her smirk at the girl's instant reaction of tensing up. The younger female turned her head and with a sigh, rose to her feet. There was a forced, pleasant smile on her face.

"What can I do for you, Miss Pataki?" She questioned sweetly causing Helga to snort.

"I'm off the clock," Helga pointed out.

The smile instantly faded and the tone became cold as Candace addressed her again, "Then what do you want _Helga_?"

Taking in a deep breath and letting it out as a long sigh, Helga diverted her eyes to the store display of an animated Santa with a pair of expensive earphones and an iWood N'xt swiveling back and forth from the hips as if dancing.

"A few days ago, I said something that _might_ have been misunderstood," she started, only briefly flicking her gaze to the underclassman before going back to the Santa. "I—Arnold volunteered to raise some kittens, since the stupid football head didn't think things through and is partially busted at the moment, I said I'd help him out. _That's_ what I meant when I said we were raising babies together."

Turning her attention to Candace again, she was quietly shocked to see the only difference in expression was a raised eyebrow and a slight frown.

"And you're telling me this now, why?"

Gritting her teeth, Helga fought back her annoyance, jealousy, and pride.

"I'm telling you this so you'll stop being all prissy and a jerk to him." Similar to the way Helga herself had been acting toward the male in question only a few days prior, but what Candace didn't know about that, Helga sure as Bob overpriced things wasn't going to tell her.

"Fine, I'm told. But I still don't see how I treat _my_ boyfriend has anything to do with you," Candace replied, turning and flipping her ponytail over her shoulder as she did so.

Fighting in the middle of the store would be a bad, _bad _idea. So instead, Helga renewed her opinion that Candace was a creep and made a quick, furious exit. Tromping through the parking lot, intent on making it to the bus stop for the next pick up, the blonde huffed out an annoyed breath.

She had _done_ her good deed, dangit! If the idiotic girl didn't realize the great sacrifice Helga made in not only clearing up the misunderstanding but basically pushed her back into Arnold's arms, well then Candace was too dense for—for—well, Arnold for one.

Helga felt her lips kick up in a self-satisfied grin. She was too preoccupied with listing all the various ways Candace was all wrong for Arnold that the sound of her name being called was completely lost.

It was the hand on her shoulder that alerted the girl to the other person. Glaring back over her shoulder, intent on flicking off the offending hand and dragging the presumptuous person across the verbal coals, she blinked in mid action.

"Arnold? What are you doing here?"

The male removed his hand and gifted her his classic lopsided smile.

"Waiting for someone to get off work," he quirked an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Ah, right, _Candace. _

Sighing, Helga turned, ready to continue her journey, throwing back to him, "She doesn't get off 'til after ten, football head. You might want to pick up a paper or something to kill the time."

Snapping her fingers, she turned slightly, and in a flat voice added, "Oh, and I explained everything to your little girlfriend, so she'll stop chewing on you about you having babies and stuff."

Helga had taken a few steps before a shy response reached her ears and caused her cheeks to flame red.

"Actually, Helga, I was waiting for _you_."

She was dreaming—no, she slipped on a patch of ice and she was in a coma. Yeah, that was it! She hit her head, was hooked up to every medical machine known to man in some hospital and her mind was trying to break it to her easy by having Arnold come for _her_.

Her hand twitched and with a mind of its own, her left hand rose slowly and drew back. With a sound _smack_, Helga flinched as her hand slapped her across the cheek.

Okay, so that had really hurt. She wasn't dreaming, dreams didn't sting and cause your eyes to water.

Arnold flinched when she hit herself. What on _earth_ did she need to beat herself up for? Sighing, he scratched the back of his neck as he groped around his mind for the right words.

"I mean, you know, the kittens are taken care of, one of the boarders agreed to watch them for us," Arnold cleared his throat, nervousness creeping over his mind.

Helga finely turned around, staring at the blonde male in astonishment. Her silence was unnerving for Arnold and it was to break this silence he hastily added.

"It's either we hang out, maybe go to a movie or something to kill time, _or_ go back home where we will be enlisted to aid my Grandma in a tribal dance to appease the fire god so he doesn't make the volcano under the house erupt."

Helga's mouth hung open in disbelief. She would have rolled her eyes and added a 'yeah, right' but having lived with the Shorts, she did not put it pass Grandma Gertie to come up with such a ludicrous scenario.

Well, _another_ ludicrous scenario.

Snapping her mouth shut, she cleared her throat and easily asked, "Okay, what movie?"

* * *

><p>Arnold grinned like the mad hatter as Helga grumbled under her breath as she weaved through the narrow walkway between the bent knees of other movie goers and the hard plastic backs of the seats.<p>

Helga was never one to be quiet, but she had not said more than two sentences complete after they decided which movie to see. What finally got her out of whatever odd, shy shell she crawled into was when he cut her off at the ticket counter and paid for both of their tickets. She had huffed and declared she could pay for herself; in return he shrugged and smiled.

When Helga had gone to use the restroom before the show, Arnold was fortunate enough to get to the snack bar and purchase several various things for them to share. The girl had all but pitched a fit about being treated again.

He had only grinned and said it was too much for him to eat alone. She had glared, snatched the proffered drink, and the tub of popcorn before stomping into the theater.

Finally picking her way to the middle of the seventh row, her long time favorite area of the cinema, Helga and ineloquently plopped down in the seat.

The movie was already two weeks in its run, but was still popular enough for the room to be half filled with watchers. After situating himself and making sure to keep his injured arm away from Helga, just in case she decided to repay his pleasantry with pain. Though he wasn't going to say it, this was his form of apology.

His dad had been the one who suggested that Arnold apologize to Helga. When the teenager protested, claiming he did nothing _wrong_, both of the older Short men burst into laughter.

_"Son, even if we were right, we were wrong," _Miles said with a slow shake of his head and a soft smile. _"The sooner you come to accept this, the easier your life with women will be."_

It was just by pure dumb luck that his Grandma _did_ decide to recruit people for the fire-god-appeasing-dance thing. After asking one of newer tenants who liked cats to just keep an eye on the kittens, Arnold had driven around the neighborhood, his mind churning, trying to figure out what he could do to kill a few hours. It wasn't until he parked his truck in Big Bob's parking lot that he even realized he was there. Killing the engine, the boy allowed the cold to creep in to the cab as he kept an attentive eye on the exit.

When he saw Helga stomp out, a deep frown on her face, he almost caved and ran. Instead, he mentally kicked himself into gear and climbed out of the truck. After she told him about Candace, a part of him sharply reprimanded him for forgetting that his _girlfriend_ was Helga's co-worker.

It was fun to watch her gape in surprise several times throughout the evening, and then the childish glower she'd give him before turning her face away. It was—_cute_.

Popping a few kernels in his mouth, Arnold focused on the start of the previews. Twenty minutes into the actual movie, the male looked over to make a comment to his companion. His eyebrows shot straight up at her obvious _lack_ of interest.

The curve of the back of Helga's head was rested on the back seat of the chair, mouth opened, arms crossed, and completely asleep.

Not able to hide stop the warm smile from curving his lips, Arnold decided to help the exhausted girl. Her current position _might_ have been comfortable, but it was going to leave a serious crick in her neck if in that position for the next two hours. Switching his cup from the right cup holder to the left, he sent a silent thanks to the cinema's management for installing seats where the armrests could be shifted up and back or, as Candace had called them, sweetheart seats.

After some gentle coaxing, he managed to shift Helga until she leaned her head against his shoulder comfortably. Smiling at his triumph, Arnold directed his attention to the movie. At a particularly loud scene, Helga grumbled and fearful that she would wake and well, _kill_ him, Arnold stiffened in anxious anticipation. Only repositioning herself, surprising him greatly when she slipped an arm through his, and clutched one hand into the sleeve of his shirt while the other draped across his wrist.

Blushing hotly, the blonde male tried to reassert himself into the movie plot, but with every twitch or contented sigh from his right, his eyes would flick down to the girl. Each time, she was asleep, face buried in the fabric of his shirt.

When he had to wake her up, there would be some explaining to do, but at that moment, Arnold just smiled, amused.

* * *

><p>Stella was ecstatic as the bus rumbled down the road, toward the dreaded (by many a male) shopping section of Hillwood. As much as she loved to shop, the brunette woman had no steady female company to drag along on all the merchandise madness. Beaming a smile to the blonde girl next to her, Helga returned the gesture with an uncertain half-smile before she looked out the window across from her.<p>

Not only had Stella been able to convince Helga to join her, _Helga_ had strong armed Arnold into accompanying them as well. Her son was a slippery a bar of soap in a warm shower when it came to shopping but it took Helga's asking and a few hesitant heartbeats before the boy agreed.

Smirking, Stella grabbed the teenage girl's arm and squeezed gently. Befuddled, Helga gave her another unsure smile.

When the trio scrambled off the bus and through the crowd into the warm, populated mall, there was a sense of relief that soon mutated into a corrupted sense of gift-buying mode. This was not just shopping, this was war.

Rolling up her sleeves, Stella grabbed one of Helga's hands and hauled the girl toward the first store. Arnold, knowing his mom's ruthless routine, opted to stay outside the shop with the rest of the depressed dragged-along shopping buddies.

It had taken several minutes of persuasion for Stella to convince Helga to leave the kittens for some shopping. To Arnold the slight frown Helga wore wasn't from the prospect of _shopping_ but worry and a want not to leave the kittens.

"Hey, Arnold!"

Turning, he and got an armful of Helga as she was walking toward him when a group of overly excited children ran behind her, shoving the female teen into blonde boy.

Confused, Helga glanced up and blushed a lovely pink, Arnold reflected the tint as they scrambled apart.

Clearing her throat and ignoring the bemused stares of the benchwarmers around them, Helga jammed her hand into a pocket of her coat, before yanking it out and holding out a fisted hand in front of Arnold. Slowly, he held up his good hand and without a word, she shoved a slim cell phone in his hands.

Refusing to make eye contact, the girl muttered so low Arnold strained to hear her, "That's yours, I programmed your parents', Sunset Arms, Gerald's, Phoebe's and my phone number into it."

She turned on her heels and scampered off without giving him a chance to respond.

Dumbfounded, the blonde watched as she merged back into the crowd and from there into the store his mother had gone into. Eyebrows knitted together, Arnold lifted up the phone to his face to study the odd object. Shrugging, he pressed what he hoped was the power button and no a self-destruct Helga programmed to pay him back from some new unknown offense. When the screen came to life, a grin twitched at his lips.

Three sets of familiar sleepy, dark eyes stared back at him with mouths white from milk. Helga must have tested out the camera at some time and made the kittens the background on the phone.

Scouting out a place to sit, the boy decided to find out what other surprises were loaded onto the device.

* * *

><p>Sunday morning found Arnold clicking through his photos on his father's laptop. It was earlier than he normally fell out of bed (or off the couch) on the weekend. Even after staying up most the night having Helga explain the various functions and features of his new phone. She had kept her head down or overly attentive to the wobbling kittens as they tried to walk instead of crawl. They reminded him of furry baby sea turtles scooting around.<p>

Helga had muttered something about them now being able to keep in touch without worry. He had given her a lazy smile as she blushed and jerked her attention to Gunner who had managed to squirm his way to the closed door of his bedroom.

Scanning through the thumbnails, Arnold leaned back and didn't try to kill the smile on his face. He hadn't told anyone else of the new phone with the hard orange protective case (compliments of his elated mother) or his phone number.

Candace would be a mix of emotions when he got around to telling her his number. Happy that he was now carrying a cell phone, angry because of how he obtained it, and horrified at whom bought it for him.

Clicking his tongue and tucking away the eventual fall out, he decided to refocus on the task at hand. He decided to take up the job in his dad's office because the door had a lock and his mom didn't have a key. Though he loved his mother dearly, she was starting to make him feel awkward around Helga.

Stella had pranced around, humming 'Jingle Bells', and pointing out various aspects of the girl's personality, appearance, and so on and how much she loved them all. Repetition was a nasty beast, before they had gone to bed; Arnold had to note that Helga's eyes _were_ the same shade as the sea as right after the sun rose.

Shaking his head and groaning at his thoughts, Arnold reset his priorities and glared at the thumbnails as he browsed.

Though the blonde female had declared it a 'need', the boy couldn't help but label it a 'gift'. In the book of the family Short, no gift went without a gift returned. Okay, so it was in the book of Arnold Short—extended edition.

When he found the picture he had been looking for, he beamed with joy. It would take all his photographic connections to get it done in time, but it would be worth it. Clicking on the picture to enlarge it, Arnold grabbed his phone and after a few failed attempts, managed to type in the correct number.

Helga was going to be so surprised.

* * *

><p>His heart leapt in his throat screaming, choking his own yelp of surprise.<p>

Arnold could have sworn his heart stopped when he shut his locker door and came face to face with Gerald. The hall _had_ been empty only a few minutes earlier when the blonde arrived after his doctor's appointment scheduled earlier that morning.

"What is going on with you, man?"

Taking a few steadying breaths, and making sure his heart was functioning properly again, the boy studied his friend. Gerald was as cool and casual as only he could ever pull off in a pair of jeans, sneakers, and basketball team sweatshirt.

"I was at a doctor's appointment for my wrist," Arnold explained, hefting his backpack with his good arm and slinging over his shoulder. "Where did you come from? And how did you even know I was _back_?"

Gerald pushed off the lockers he had been leaning against and stepped closer to his best friend.

"My Arnold-sense was tingling," the boy replied flatly. "That and my need to Get-Some-Sense-_Into_-Arnold warning bell was ringing."

Blinking, blonde eyebrows pinched together in the middle of his forehead.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't think just because I have a pretty face I'm an idiot," Gerald replied "I saw you getting cozy with her at the movies."

Arnold jerked his head toward his friend who stared back with a self-pleased confidence at having busted his buddy.

"How—when—?" The blonde boy stumbled over his words as he tried to sketch out Friday night and how he could have missed seeing Gerald at the theaters. True the boy had shaved off his high hair, but it was still nearly impossible for Gerald to blend in with his tall, lanky stature.

"Come _on_, man, have you been so out of it for the past few weeks that you forgot that I _work_ at the Cineplex?" Gerald rolled his eyes. "So what was up with you and Helga the Horrible?"

Coughing and hoping that his friend would play ignorant to the blush on his face, Arnold shrugged.

"Nothing is up with us. We're just friends. She was tired so I let her borrow my shoulder," the blonde explained away.

"Uh-huh," Gerald started unbelieving, "If you ever did something like that to me, I'd have to visit you in the hospital. _And_ if I ever let another girl 'borrow my shoulder' like that, you'd be visiting _me_ in the hospital once Phoebe got through with me."

Frowning, Arnold stopped in front of the door to his class and turned to look at his best friend.

"What are you trying to say Gerald?"

Gerald shot Arnold a terse expression.

"What I'm saying is _end_ whatever is going on between the two of you._ Now_. Nothing good is going to come from it, kill it before you get into some _serious_ trouble."

Arnold rolled his eyes before giving an identical look to Gerald.

"We are raising kittens together, Gerald. Not kids. I don't see why—"

His words died on his tongue as a familiar chime went off several times in his back jeans pocket. Eyes widening in alarm, Arnold fumbled with his bag until he was able to fish his new phone out of the back of his pocket. Gerald curious study of his friend soon shifted into two uplifted eyebrows.

Hastily, he pressed the correct password on the screen and silenced the cell phone, deciding to read the texts from Helga later, and shoved the device back into his jeans' pocket. Lifting his head high, he tried to move around his friend, but the other male was having none of it.

"Since when do _you_ have a cell?"

Arnold clicked his teeth together, he didn't want to lie but if he told him that Helga had given it to him—that would only serve to further the assumption that something _else_ besides three little kittens was growing between Helga and Arnold.

"S-since I got one," Arnold tried to grab for the door handle to the class room only to have Gerald's shoulder rammed into his.

"Nuh-uh," Gerald pushed him back to the lockers, pinned him on the shoulder with one hand and pointed with his other. "You are _not_ gettin' out of telling me about the cell phone after that _very_ suspicious and epically failed escape."

As Gerald leaned in with a glare fixed on his face, Arnold gulped down the ball of worry and saliva that had formed on his tongue.

"Start. Talking."

* * *

><p>Candace Price was not a stupid girl. True she wasn't the brightest star in the sky but she hadn't mutated into a black hole yet either! Something was wrong with her boyfriend. They had a system.<p>

She'd get mad. He'd shower her with apologies and little tokens of his feelings until she was benevolent enough to forgive him. They'd smirk and smile at one another, perhaps go to a movie or to a party and all would be well until she got mad again.

However, this was not the case. Someone had changed the way of things and it had her ever more upset and frustrated. Arnold Short was a good guy. Candace, as well as every other female who'd met him, knew it. He was always honest, willing to help, and wanting to bridge gaps.

So where was he? He hadn't called since she'd hung up on him. He didn't meet her at her locker the next school day or even a stinking post-it note! It was as if he had quit her and forgotten to mention it _to_ her.

Candace traced the heart on the front of her Spanish notebook with her fingertip, sighing, and wondering what was taking her boyfriend so long to seek her out.

Then came a cold, bitter thought.

Helga.

_Helga_ was the only factor that was new to the equation. Of course, the kittens were a part of that as well but having a fat black and white cat named Buster, Candace could hardly conjure up blame to place on their heads.

All the blame, annoyance, and irritability had to be painted onto Helga since the kittens were innocent.

Puffing out an annoyed breath, the girl leaned her head on her propped up arm as she flipped the page dutifully with the rest of the class.

Candace wasn't so naïve as to ever believe that she could go up against Helga in a cat fight. Not only would the younger girl lose, she'd probably get suspended, _and_ fired. Pranks were too childish and not the type of mark she wanted to make in her high school life. Class clowns were funny to watch and hear, but they did _not_ get invited to the best parties _or_ date star athletes.

If she could create some type of scandal or gossip about the blonde girl..? No, no that would just be a slow suicide. Rumors were able to be traced back and any type of scandal Candace could concoct would probably boost Helga's reputation into of cripple it. There was also the bitter fact that Pataki didn't seem to care what anyone thought or did to her, she always breezed through it with little effort and an indifferent heart.

Frowning, the girl spent the rest of the class going over ways she could disentangle Arnold from Helga or at least keep Arnold's attention until the end of the school year. However, at the end of the day, she had only come up with the conclusion that she had to wait for the moment to come.

A moment that would make everything implode on Helga and teach the girl not to mess with someone's boyfriend.


	5. Relax

Whiskers

Chapter 05

* * *

><p>Arnold smirked as Helga tried to fumble out an excuse as to why she couldn't join them in the front living room. She had innocently wandered in from work and had ended up slack jawed in the foyer for a second too long and was spotted by the female Shorts.<p>

"It's the theme for this Christmas," Stella announced, adjusting her grass skirt as Grandma Gertie rummaged around her bag of supplies for a coconut bra that would fit Helga.

Helga could have danced out of the situation by faking a yawn and declaring that the kittens needed to be fed. However, with her mouth hanging open and with the rather delicious image of a shirtless Arnold staring back at her with a wicked smirk words were hard to come by.

Sure, yes, he was wearing rolled up jeans and a grass skirt but the honey-tanned skin and smooth shift of his muscles made up for the ridiculousness.

"Ah-ha!" Gertie yelped, popping up from where she had been digging and holding a coconut bra in one hand and a colorful grass skirt in the other. With a grace no one would believe a lady her age possessed, she danced her way over to the teenage girl.

"Looks like you are getting a Hula lesson," Stella smiled. "If it makes it easier, this is Arnold's first time, too."

Helga paled considerably as the dress-up items were shoved at her and she was shooed into an empty room to change. Arnold bolted up the steps to his bedroom to grab the kittens and their heating pad to bring them downstairs. After warming up their food, and the proper amount of cooing, the kittens were put in a larger box to prevent them from escaping and wiggling around the room unseen.

Checking her watch, Stella sighed.

"What is taking that girl so long?" Gertie asked allowed. "Kimba, bring your mate back here or the gods of the feast won't bless us!"

Arnold shrugged, decided to take Olivia with him as he went to do as told. He walked into the hallway when the door Helga had been pushed through slowly opened. Prepping an encouraging smile and holding up the small grey kitten in front of his face, Arnold's half-lidded eyes rounded with astonishment as Helga reluctantly slid through the doorway. Her face was pink with embarrassment and eyes downcast as she shifted the grass skirt around her waist.

It wasn't until the small kitten mewed out in protest that Helga snapped up her eyes to land on Arnold. She had tied her work shirt into a bikini-like top instead of bothering with the coconuts, leaving her pale skin exposed from just under her bra to the top of her low riding jeans.

Her face darkened from pink to a deep red.

"Wh-what are _you_ looking at, football head?" Helga managed to snap, stomping past him. She paused, turned, and held out her hands. Hearing her huff, Arnold turned to see her reaching out to him. When Olivia mewed again and wiggled, the boy handed over the little female to her 'mother'. Once the kitten was safely in Helga's hands, the teenager continued to the living room with softer steps.

Sighing, Arnold wondered for the millionth time since his interrogation from Gerald just _why_ his best friend was so worried about anything developing between the two blondes. Helga quite obviously couldn't stand the sight of him.

When he heard the distinct pop of the record player being turned on, he figured he could wait to analyze crazy suspicions later. Right now, he had to learn to do the proper hula dance to appease the 'gods of the feast' or, in his case, his somewhat eccentric family.

An hour later and only the three furry covered bodies were enjoying the sweltering temperature that Gertie felt necessary to heat the house up to. In an attempt to get the feel of a tropic island, she had pushed the heater up to 85 degrees and threw an armful of logs on the fire.

While the silver haired didn't seem the least bit affected by the extreme heat, the teenagers and Stella were covered in sweat. Helga had even picked up the kittens, fed and sleeping, and put them back in Arnold's bedroom. When the girl returned, Stella made an excuse of dinner and promised to practice with Miles later on.

"Now this time, do it with heart!" Grandma Gertie, or High Priestess of the Holidays, picked up the arm of the record player and started the song over again.

Being tired and used to ballet not hula, the entire hip-to-shoulder rotation movement had her a bit frustrated. An angry Helga was never a fun person to deal with by any twist of the imagination. There was a pout on her mouth that made the scowl softer and almost cute.

Arnold gave a ghost of a smirk at the girl, and instead of fighting his mind about calling her attractive, in any shallow sense of the word, he let it slide.

"Hey!" Helga _eeped_ out as Grandma grabbed a hold of the younger female's midsection and pushed her hips out further with each beat.

"You need to add some attitude to your hips, young Alma," Gertie announced, releasing the girl and jumping into her line of vision. Helga blinked in surprise at the name she had been called and the woman's limberness.

"Alma? What happened to Eleanor?" the girl wondered aloud.

Gertie decided not to answer the question and instead caused Arnold and Helga's mouths to drop open in shock. The old woman swiveled her hips, swayed, and rocked her body smoothly while bending her arms in various ways and keeping clean, neat steps.

When the song ended, Gertie gave an eloquent bow and straightened up and put both fists on her hips.

"That is how it is done properly," the woman nodded in agreement with herself. "Kimba!"

Arnold jumped slightly at the loud use of his nickname.

"Yes, Grandma?"

"Face her." After he did what was told, the old lady crossed her arms behind her back, then slowly stepped around and without a warning she smacked both of the teens on their rears.

Both yelped and jerked forward, much less space between them than before, Gertie made quick work of putting Arnold's hands on Helga's hips and Helga's hands on his forearms.

"Kimba, you must show Alma the way of the dance," again the woman nodded sagely and then moved to start the record again.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Arnold shifted his hands to a more comfortable position with nervous motions. Helga's face darkened another shade of red, to near purple as his fingertips and cast touched her skin.

Deciding to ease some of her nervousness, Arnold dared to look up at Helga's face and waited until she glanced in his direction before speaking.

"It's easier if we just do what she wants," he joked lightly, "she does have some mad ninja skills."

Helga found enough strength to nod her head once as her eyes darted away from his. Another small smile went unseen as he started to manipulate her hips, avoiding her feet as they moved. Gertie would bark out corrections like a drill sergeant throughout the dance.

Two attempts later, Arnold was put behind Helga, his hands still on her hips and his bare chest (save the several leis hanging from his neck) closer to her semi-exposed back. Helga's tongue, she was sure, had swelled three times its normal size as they were allowed to rest after another two tries.

When Miles came through the door, a blast of heat and the demands of his mother had him sighing as he strapped on a grass skirt. Gertie and a reluctant Miles began to move to the song; Helga's heart skipped a beat when Arnold put his chin gently on her shoulder as he watched. Not sure what to do with her hands, she laced her fingers together and held her hands up to her chest. What was going on in front of her, she was completely oblivious.

Her awareness was focused on the steady rise and fall of Arnold's chest. Every inhale, his torso would ghost against her shoulder blades, and when he exhaled, his warm breath had goosebumps popping up on her arms. With the subtle circular, unconscious movements of his thumbs on her sides, Helga pinched her lips together to keep the love sick sigh from her escaping her mouth.

As Gertie pulled a ruler out of somewhere unseen and began to rap Miles feet when he miss stepped, it was Arnold who became overly aware of Helga as she leaned back on him casually.

With slightly quirked eyebrows, Arnold second guessed his early assumption about how much Helga despised him.

—and whether or not Gerald's warnings were actually valid.

* * *

><p>The last day of school before winter break was dedicated to the same thing in every school within the district: childish games, sugar loaded snacks, and half-hearted parties.<p>

Mr. Spicson was grateful to allow Arnold and several of his friends to crash in his science room to escape the mind numbing activities some of the more giddy and festive educators. It was with great enjoyment that the teacher was updated on the kittens.

Phoebe had her hands full with running errands in the office so it was a sulking Gerald who sought out his best friend. It was no surprise to the tall teen to find most of his fourth grade classmates stuffed into the lab. Rhonda was rolling her eyes and shaking her head as Harold tried to nab some of the old corn from the rat's cage, while most of the others were joking around and downing different colas.

Sighing, Gerald found Arnold leaning against the wall next to the window that over looked the courtyard. He had his cell phone in hand and fingers ready to type away to whoever (though Gerald was fairly sure it was a bullish blonde) was on the end of the text conversation.

Sighing, the boy dragged himself toward Arnold. When Arnold turned his attention to him, a half smile spread on his lips.

"Hey, Gerald," Arnold greeted.

"Hey," the taller boy cleared his throat before continuing. "Listen, man, I didn't mean to freak out on you like that," Gerald apologized sheepishly, kicking at the ground with his sneakers.

"Huh?"

"You know, the other day when I kinda jumped down your throat about the whole Helga thing."

Arnold's cheeks tinted pink at Helga's name and to prove his nervousness of the topic, he crossed his arms against his chest giving a shrug.

"Oh, that. Don't—don't worry about it."

Raising an eyebrow at his fidgeting, but decided he didn't want to follow up his apology with more accusations. Opting to roll his eyes instead, he chose a different topic.

"So you tell your girl about you coming up in the world?" Gerald questioned, nodding toward the cell phone.

Glancing down at the object in question, Arnold let out a sigh with a small frown. He hadn't told Candice anything about the cell phone. He wasn't sure why he was hesitating, but—well, he just didn't do it _yet_.

"Not—as of yet," Arnold confessed. "It would just be another way for her to bug me about going to Phoebe's party."

"Oh _pun-ish-ment_!" Gerald responded sarcastically. "It is so horrible to have your _girlfriend_ wanting to go to a party!"

Arnold glanced out the window, not wanting to respond to his friend. After all, even though it was said with cynicism, he was right. There were worse things than Candice calling him in this life—like telemarkers or Helga crying.

Tilting his head in silent consideration, Arnold tried to conjure up an image of Helga crying but he couldn't get it quite right. Every time it was blurry or she'd be laughing in his mind's eye.

"Dude, snap _out_ of it," Gerald commanded, clicking his fingers in front of Arnold's face.

"Huh, oh, sorry."

"So _are_ you going?"

"Where?" Arnold blinked, lost.

Groaning, Gerald stared at the ceiling for understanding.

"To Phoebe's _party_, man," he huffed. "Are you going or not?"

"I don't know, Gerald, Helga will be out all night working and the kittens have only just two weeks old."

"You are _so _whipped, _so_ whipped," he shook his head sadly, "and you aren't even dating the girl!"

"I know, but I was the one who did volunteer to take care of the kittens, it wouldn't be right not to take responsibility."

"Always Mr. Do-right, huh?" Gerald grinned. "Well, just remember that it is an _after_ Christmas party, since most parents wouldn't let their kids outta the house for Christmas _day_."

Arnold nodded, knowing full well when and where the party was going to be, Candice wouldn't stop reminding him about it. Since it was _the_ party of the winter season, those who were invited automatically went up a few steps on the social ladder. Being friends with Phoebe since forever had Arnold invited without an actual invitation, while Candice, for reasons only the Japanese-American girl knew, was _never_ asked to come.

Stranger still, as he thought about it, was that Helga never _went_.

* * *

><p>Bob could suck her big toe after a running a marathon for putting her through the midnight madness. <em>Big Bob's<em> was to stay open to midnight for the remaining days until Christmas, exactly, two more to go. Even Christmas Eve wasn't important enough to Bob to give his employees a break. Nope, desperate people seeking that last minute gift to impress meant more money.

Sighing as she rotated her left shoulder, trying to ease the soreness, she pushed out of the back door of _Bob's_. She wasn't a head supervisor but she was more compassionate than Bob—even though she'd deny it until the day she died. It was with great skill that the girl was able to schedule most of the family oriented employees off while tormenting the single or student workers into near hysteria.

It was just her rotten luck that she fell into _both_ of those categories.

The blast of the wet, icy wind woke her up faster than a slap to the face. Tucking further into her scarf and pulling her beanie further down on her head, the girl set out on the journey from the store to the bus stop. If she walked at a steady pace, she'd make it just before the next bus left. Yawning, Helga rubbed her eyes with the ball of her gloved hand.

There was a small park next to _Bob's,_ and cutting through it at night might not be the wisest move, but it snipped at least five minutes off her walk time. She wasn't too afraid of some loser jumping her because caring about anything like that would suck what little energy she had out of her. The kittens would require loving and food when she got back hom—no, got back to _Arnold's_ home.

"It's dangerous to not pay attention to your surroundings, Helga."

She nearly shrieked and wanted to leap up a tree when a familiar voice cut through the air and the darkness. Spinning around, she came face to face with the object of her more obsessive thoughts and currently fear-filled heart.

"Do you get some kinda sick pleasure out of scaring me?!" Helga yelped, punching him in the arm.

His laugh was soft and warm, causing the girl's anger to melt like sugar in the rain. Swallowing down the surge of emotion that her heart threw up her throat in giddy joy, she felt her cheeks pinken lightly.

"I came to give you a ride home," Arnold confessed, his green eyes taking in his temporary housemate silently. Even bundled up in pink and black, the girl had a certain—_something_ that kept him distracted from the rest of the world. When he turned toward the parking lot of _Bob's_, Helga huffed and stomped past him.

Inside, Helga sighed contently to have Arnold here for her—_again_.

The ride home was warmer and more comfortable than it would have been on the bus, Helga happily realized. Arnold had the heat up, the music down, and he even brought her a cup of hot chocolate in a travel mug. She sipped it as he questioned her, making the silence between them fall away under light conversation.

"Why didn't you just text me that you were going to be there?" Helga asked as the comfort of heat and the scent of Arnold lulled her brain into a sleepy state.

At the last red light, he turned slightly toward her and smiled.

"I _did_."

Helga blinked, and used her free to dig in her back pocket of her jeans. When she brought it to the front, she felt her cheeks flare in embarrassment. She had turned it off two hours into her shift.

Bob had been texting her and when she stopped answering, he started to call. It was all about business, of course. He wanted an update on how the longer store hours were going and if she could see a marked spike in profit.

Through gritted teeth, she had typed him a harsh reply of 'yes' and 'bug off' before turning off her phone with an evil grin.

Deciding to save face, Helga turned on her cell and waited for it to start up. As the satellites and the phone connected, the tiny device started to vibrate as if trying to produce a miniature earthquake.

"Wow, Helga, I didn't know you were _that_ popular," Arnold joked lightly after seeing the all too familiar scowl darken his passenger's face.

"I'm _not_," she bit out, scowling as her missed calls, voice mail messages, and text messages numbered in the double digits.

Curious but not nosey, Arnold kept the questions quiet. It wasn't until he parked the truck behind his family home, unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to the blonde girl who had taken up the hobby of lightly banging her forehead on his dashboard.

Back when she was a kid, Helga would have basked in all the attention her father was giving her, but now she'd wish he'd drop his phone in the nearest pool and forget her number. Maybe then she wouldn't be sitting in the truck, trying to achieve brain damage until either the cold or Arnold dragged her into the house.

"So," the teen boy started, his eyebrows raised slightly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Groaning, Helga forced herself back into a sitting position and felt the exhaustion sink into her bones. Dropping her head back to the headrest, she stared up at the ceiling blankly before blindly, and slowly, began to feel for her seat belt release button. After it was clicked and the grey band slithered back into its place, she let out a deep chested sigh and sluggishly turned to the door.

Before she could lift the latch, Arnold put a hand on her shoulder. Even in her state of mindlessness and stress, she felt her heart swoon and giggle in a carefree manner. Twisting her head around, she glanced at the driver with a half raised eyebrow.

"I'll handle the kittens, if you want, and you can just relax. Okay, Helga?"

Her independence stirred up and demanded to pull away from him and snap that she didn't need charity but that part of her was stomped into a bloody mess by the over worked and lethargic part of her.

"Sure, Arnold, whatever," Helga shrugged, opened her door and jumped out of the truck cab.

* * *

><p>Gunner growled in annoyance as he unsuccessfully gummed the nipple for milk. Arnold tried repositioning it, but the small kitten growled more, grabbing at the bottle with his tiny, needle sharp claws scrapping the skin on Arnold's thumb.<p>

Frowning, the boy was growing as frustrated as the kitten with the feeding. Noel had been easy, once her bladder was empty; she quickly filled her belly with the milk and then was content to be put back in the box-nest. He had picked up Gunner after Noel, which left a mewing Olivia to squirm around the box while Noel tried to cuddle up to her.

"If you'd stop fighting me," Arnold muttered under his breath as he was thankful for the cast covering the majority of the hand holding the kitten. They were too young to know how to retract their claws and Helga was too squeamish about hurting them to clip the claws.

Helga had grabbed her pajamas and dental products before disappearing back downstairs. It had taken no time at all to claim the lone bathroom since it was nearing one in the morning and even Oskar _had_ to sleep. Brushing her teeth, braiding her hair, and washing her face, the girl then frowned at her reflection.

She was _much_ too young to have bags under her eyes, and the raccoon look? Yes, well, no one was perfect but Bob was causing her to prematurely _age_. Muttering less than flattering things about her father, she collected her things and made her way back up to the attic.

Opening the door to Arnold's bedroom, she halted briefly at the site of her football head attempting to get Gunner to open his mouth. Making sure to push the door shut as quietly as possible, she dumped her belongings on her bag and stood in front of Arnold, arms crossed and one eyebrow kicked up.

When the orange kitten refused to latch onto the bottle as Arnold held it, the boy made an aggravated noise in the back of his throat.

"Need help?" Helga offered, still towering over the two.

"_Yes,_" Arnold replied, nearly pleaded. "I know I said I take care of them but he is being _stubborn_."

Rolling her eyes, she easily dropped down beside Arnold, who was leaning against the foot of his bed, and gently took the kitten and bottle from his hands.

"Gunner's picky," Helga pointed out, "you have to have a bit of milk on the tip otherwise he won't take it."

To prove her point, she squeezed a droplet of the warm, white liquid out of the top of the nipple and then carefully brought it to the orange kitten's mouth. Gingerly, she rubbed the rubber tip against his lips and instantly the kitten latched on and began to drink.

Arnold lightly frowned at the kitten but a smile soon eased on to his face as Helga scooted back against the bed next to him, never once offering or handing over the baby and its bottle. The fact that he was there as a witness to her cooing and talking softly to the kitten.

The fat kitten wiggled around in her grip and after a few minutes pushed the nipple from his milk ringed mouth and turned his head away, a lazy purr replacing his insistent meows.

"You're a good mother," Arnold complimented softly.

Helga, instead of taking the compliment easily, snorted.

"Yeah, because all great mom's shove their kids in shoeboxes and leave them alone for hours," she replied sarcastically.

"I'm serious, Helga." Arnold pushed; watching as she delicately plucked up Olivia and petted her furry head with her finger tips. "You really care about them, do everything _for_ them and—well, it's nice to see."

Fighting down the blush that was promising to break out over her face, Helga ducked her head and tried to think of some way to play off Arnold's kind words. She could, of course, just continue the sarcasm and call him an idiot. That could work, but that would take too much energy at the moment. Instead, she opted for a shrug and a casual, "Whatever, football head." Helg

* * *

><p>Helga slowly cracked open her eyes, her body protesting against the very idea of waking up but her bladder would <em>not<em> be ignored. Glancing at the clock, she grunted when she read it was only four fifteen in the morning.

Closing her eyes, and snuggling back into her nice warm pillow with a blissful sigh. The best thing about Stella forcing her to stay at the boarding house was that she could inhale all the Arnold scent she wanted to. From his regular coconut shampoo, to the rich cologne he wore, and even a hint of his soap stuck to his pillow.

When her bladder threatened to make her wet herself, Helga pushed up and off from where she was sleeping and attend to her needs. She had fallen asleep propped up against the bed apparently, and her stiff neck and sore shoulder did not let her forget how uncomfortable it was. Since she'd been staying at the boarding house, Helga had become accustomed to falling asleep in various locations around the room. Most of the nights she curled herself around the small box the kittens were tucked into, just to make sure she'd be there if they needed her.

With a jaw cracking yawn, the teenager opened the door and made her way down the steps to the bathroom. The very last thing she remembered before nodding off was talking to Arnold, well, it was more of hearing Arnold speak and her nodding on occasion. His voice with the lower tones of adulthood and a huskiness that came from need of sleep had been a lullaby to her.

As nice as it had been, he still could have woken her up to get into a more comfortable spot or _something_, she groused mentally.

After completing her business in the bathroom, washing her hands, and flicking off the light, the blonde stretched and quietly made her way down the hall and back up the stairs. Using her bare heel to urge the door closed, Helga popped her neck and froze in midcrack.

There, where she had been sleeping, was Arnold, with one arm extended and the other curled against his stomach. Upon creeping closer and a bit of squinting in the dark room, she could see a small ball of fur asleep in the crook of his arm. Checking on the other two, she found Gunner and Noel blissfully enjoying each other's warmth and the low setting on the heating pad.

Now came a small dilemma. Arnold was half leaned against the bed, his legs stretched out before him and a pillow to one side; it was with a deep blush that Helga slowly began to piece the clues together. When she had fallen asleep, he must have grabbed a pillow and laid her down, then she either trapped him or he stayed—by choice.

The latter of the two possible ideas had her light headed and faint hearted. Surely Arnold wouldn't have decided it was all right to spend the night, platonic as it was, in the same bedroom as her, would he? Of course not! No, no it couldn't be!

Helga chewed her lip and thought over her available options.

She could let him sleep in the room as he was or wake him up and kick him out. Her heart growled at the possibility of any missed time with him due to a new found morality of them being in the same room together and Helga nixed the idea of waking him.

So, set of options number two. To take the pillow and climb into bed or—to return to her spot with the pillow in his lap and drift back off to dreamland. This was torture. The girl knew what she _wanted_ to do, she wanted to curl up next to the boy of her dreams and share in his scent and his presence until morning—er, later morning.

However, there was the niggling, nagging part of her brain that said it wouldn't be right and he'd only end up disgusted with her for not moving when she had the chance.

But that wasn't Arnold. It took a lot for him to snap, and if he had wanted to wiggle his way to freedom before this, he could have, she was sure.

Sucking in a deep breath and holding it, the girl stealthily slipped back to her spot. Only exhaling when she had the blanket pulled up high on her shoulders as she slept on her side and her head was rested in the fluffy softness of the pillow.

She closed her eyes and tried to slow her racing heart and remind herself that she had another grueling day ahead of her. She needed her sleep, she could melt and swoon over this time with Arnold later, but for now, it was bedtime.

Even knowing that, the girl couldn't help as a lovesick sigh escaped her lips and blended into the night.


	6. Recurring

Whiskers

Chapter 06

* * *

><p>Authoress' NoteExplanation: My room is down to the studs. I kid you _not_. It all started when I had to clear out my room to steam vac my carpet. However, when I moved my bed I found a dark spot that I believe was mold and it destroyed _most_ of my college art work. : ( Lesson hard learned there. So, I had an empty room, but after discovering the dark spot, my mum and dad wanted the questionable carpet out of there. So I pulled the carpet up. Well, then they wanted to make sure there wasn't any funny business going on behind my paneling, so off it went. Then my mum figured that since the paneling was down, why not replace the installation? . That being said, I am displaced from my room. I only recently found out that the carpenter from my church won't be able to even think about my room until after Thanksgiving so I set up my computers and some of my yarn stuffs back in my bare bones room.

* * *

><p>Helga briefly wondered if blisters could cultivate blisters as she shuffled her way through the thick of the costumers to the rapidly depleting stock room to hunt, in vain, for a new-to-the-market digital camera. She knew it wasn't back there, she also knew that there wasn't a single one of them left in the state of Washington. Heck, the company was back ordered well into March!<p>

But as she shoved open the double swinging doors, she took a sigh of relief. Yes, she knew it wouldn't be there but the costumer kept pestering her about the probability of finding one in the back room. To get the buyer off her back and out of her hair, the blonde simply gave up and agreed to look.

If nothing else, Helga was thankful to hid a bit and rest her aching head while she pretended to search for the camera. Walking to the third row of shelves, she took a sharp right and both eyebrows rose at finding two other co-workers cowering against the wall.

"And what is _this_ about?" She demanded, hands on her hips as she stared at them.

"Oh, man, Helga you gotta give me two more minutes, _please_, it's a friggin' blood fest out there," Tim pleaded.

"Yeah, _please_," Cooper agreed. "We've been back here for only three minutes."

Sighing, she folded her arms and leaned lightly against the shelving unit.

"Fine, fine, a few more minutes then we'll _all_ have to go and face the mob." Helga puffed out a breath, "Just be glad this is the last day."

Grateful smiles and a deep sight were her thanks, and she only grunted in reply. Pulling out her phone, she decided to see how far away sanity, otherwise known as midnight, was and if Phoebe or Arnold had sent her messages.

09:48 p.m.

_Crud_, she mentally bemoaned. Nearly two hours away from the start of her two week vacation. Underneath the time were the tiny envelope icon and a number that made her apprehensive. Six messages could be one of her friends or it could be Bob just starting up on his message battering ram.

Wincing, she tapped the icon and didn't notice when a hint of a smile tweaked her lips. Arnold apparently mastered the ability to send pictures in the text messages.

There a picture of the kittens together with little paper Santa hats haphazardly put on their heads while they slept, another one of Gunner being successfully fed, and even one of Arnold's eye with a message of 'Eye'll see you at 12'.

The two workers noticed the normally sarcastic and short-tempered female ogre, was soothed into a gently smiling _human_ girl. Most bets were that she was some type of high-tech robot Big Bob created to give the employees ulcers while he was away.

They shared awed though frightened look before watching as Helga turned her phone off, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, the smile never leaving. It wasn't until the _bang_ of the back room doors shocked her out of her stupor that she whipped her face toward them and barked that their time was up.

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes until midnight, Arnold pulled up to <em>Big Bob's <em>and found only one parking spot. It was the further from the door than any other and next to the over flowing dumpster. Thankfully it was only _Bob's_ trash so there was no over powering stench surrounding it. In his rearview he watched as steady flow of people came and went from the building.

As the minutes ticked closer to midnight, there seemed to be more people going in than leaving. His fingers itched to text Helga but decided against it. The last thing she needed was him to aggravate her with her phone like Bob. If he hadn't been so bored for most the night, even with the pre-Luau event of several themed games and a round of good natured singing, he had been anxiously awaiting for midnight.

Stella had remarked that his 'crush was showing' and her son had gone red at the implication. His dad burst out laughing declaring that Arnold didn't deny the claim, only flustered himself trying.

Even thinking about it two hours later made the boy's cheeks heat up.

His phone vibrated and after grabbing it from where he had tossed in on the bench seat, he sighed. His passenger was going to be at _least_ thirty minutes late once the place closed.

Getting comfortable, he kept the engine on, heat up and the music cheerful as his mind wandered.

Him, like Helga?

Well, he might have come to like her since the kittens came into his life and dragged her along with them. But the _other_ type of like, what he used to refer to as _like_-like, there was a very slim chance. He was with a girlfriend, who he wasn't even sure as to _why_ he was with her anymore, and would never cheat on any girl.

Helga, on the other hand, hadn't given him any indication that she interested. Sure, there was that awkward, yet never mentioned, moment at the FTi building, but they had been _kids_. There was no way that she could still feel the same way.

A smile played on his lips as he remembered how she had curled up next to him only two nights ago and feel asleep. He didn't find weird, only touching since she was showing she trust him by falling asleep. Arnold had been very careful not to wake her or the tiny kitten in his arm up as he had managed to grab a pillow and blanket from his bed. After covering her up the best he could, and nudging her head onto the cushion, he had been about to stand up and leave her when she moved. Helga had scooted closer, pushing the pillow onto his lap, let out a sigh and fell into a deep sleep.

It had been—awkward. Thankfully she didn't wake up when his curious fingers touched her braid, running his fingers over the soft, shiny hair she always kept in a ponytail, braid or bun. He had gone to sleep, his fingers still twirling the end of her braid.

Maybe he _was_ starting to—

Arnold jumped in his seat as a sharp rap on his driver side window drop kicked him back into the now. Jerking his head toward the window, he saw a very unhappy Helga and a smirking Candace behind her.

He winced, not knowing what this was going to be about but doubtlessly it wasn't going to be holly or jolly. Quickly he rolled down his window and the bundled up blonde puffed out an annoyed breath.

"_She_ wants to hitch a ride with you," Helga had, cleverly, not said 'us'. Part of the male was thankful, but another part was unhappy by the dismissal.

"That's alright, isn't Arnold?" Candace gave her sweet smile over Helga's shoulder. Though she was smiling, the girl was snarling at finding her boyfriend playing taxi to her _boss_ and newly proclaimed arch-nemesis.

"Y-yeah, of course, hop in," the boy reached over to unlock the passenger side door. Helga glanced at the younger female who let a smirk of triumph flitter over her features before she tossed her hair and strutted to the other side of the vehicle.

Helga was ready to turn and take the _bus_ but Arnold was out of the truck, driver door open and grabbing her backpack from her before she could move a muscle. Dumbly, she climbed into the truck and slid to the middle, making sure not to hit the shift stick just as Candace clicked her seatbelt in place.

"Why should _she_ sit in the middle?" Candace questioned testily after her boyfriend climbed back into the cab and shut the door.

"Come on, Candace, it'll be easier since you have to get out first," Arnold pointed out, trying his best to keep both girls happy.

That was like asking Harold to go on a diet. Nice in theory, but it just wasn't going to happen.

It took Arnold twenty minutes to navigate the roads to her house on the other side of town, and the entire time Candace was a tightly wound ball of indignation and jealousy. When Arnold had agreed to take her home, she had assumed that Helga was going to be given the boot so the couple could spend some time alone. But _no_, somehow the blonde bully not only managed to tag along but was sitting smack against _her_ boyfriend's side!

Candace fumed and clenched her teeth tighter as she watched through the corner of her eye as Helga jumped a bit as Arnold had to shift gears and inadvertently brushed her knee. He would mumble an apology but his girlfriend could see the light blush on his cheeks and that was proof of—of _something_.

When he pulled up to her house, the girl got out and slammed the door behind her. She was _fuming_ and didn't want to get into a fight with the _other_ girl in the middle. After she mounted the steps of her stoop, she turned and glared back at the vehicle only to see her boyfriend with his head back, staring at the roof of his cab and a slight frown. He did that when he was frustrated.

Good.

He _should _be frustrated. He should be at her feet begging to know what it was that she was upset about.

Instead, she saw him smile and then laugh. Without waiting for another heartbeat to pass, Candace jammed her key into the front door lock, opened the door of her house and without looking back, shut it.

Back in the truck, Arnold lightly beat the back of his head on his head rest and sighed. Helga had tried to break the tension of Candace's furious departure with a joke. He had laughed when the blonde gave him a deadpan 'want to talk about it' question just as he had done to her earlier in the week.

"Shouldn't we get going?" Helga questioned. "Or are you going to do the _Arnold_ thing and go after her?"

She hoped he wouldn't but she disliked seeming him torn up and distressed even more.

"No," Arnold finally answered after a moment. Shaking his head he shifted the truck into drive, he brushed Helga's knee again but this time didn't bother to apologize or blush. His mind was, again, elsewhere, letting himself go on autopilot from Candace house to his. It was a route he had chiseled into his brain and required no forethought.

Helga did blush as his fingers brushed her pant covered knee. He had done it a throughout the trip and even with the awkwardness of being next to another girl's boyfriend with the girlfriend _right _there, she still treasured the touch.

Even with her euphoria, the ache at her temples caused by the tightness and weight of the bun she styled her hair in for work, became a good, though painful distraction. Reaching up, she undid the elastic band holding her bun in place, and then the one keeping it back in a ponytail. Combing and fluffing her freed sunshine blonde hair with her fingers, Helga gave a pleased sigh.

"Oh yeah," Arnold reached into his coat pocket and produced a small black box. At a red light he offered it to Helga who hesitated in taking it. "Merry Christmas," he mumbled, his cheeks tinting pink without the girl noticing (he hoped).

"Merry Christmas," Helga replied automatically, turning the box over and over in her hands. It _seemed_ like a normal box, of course, he had used a normal box before to render her temporarily blind in fourth grade. Frowning at that thought, she shook the package gently and heard a soft _clinking_ inside.

Glancing at him, she shrugged, and figured that if he wanted her to be blind for an hour it only meant he'd have to not only lead her around his house but take care of the kittens by himself.

As she pulled the lid open, she winced, ready for the light to fill the truck, but it never came. With a squeak of the hinges, the jewelry box opened all the way. Even with only the dim light of the street lights they drove past, the gold chain and three charms shined proudly.

Disbelieving, the girl delicately lifted the chain from the box, closed it, and set it in her lap. It was a bracelet judging by the chain length, and made with a less delicate, sturdier design that twisted two thin ropes of gold together. Fingering one of the charms, she felt her already fluttering heart nearly break with an overwhelming joy.

The first flat, heart shaped charm had a picture etched into the gold of Olivia with her name embossed on the side of the picture. Helga's throat tightened as she inspected the other two pendants, one with Gunner, the other Noel.

"Arnold—" she started, trying to keep the sentiment from her voice and from falling down her face. She never received a gift as thoughtful and personal as the one he had just given. Pinching her lips together, she cradled the bracelet in her hands as if it was a baby bird.

Arnold was torn between trying to gauge her reaction and not running into anything (or one) on the road. She covered her mouth with one of her hands, as her eyes seemed to glitter more than ever. Panic pricked his awareness, was she—_crying?_

Not speaking to him, he was left to create a reality from his assumptions of her reaction. Did she really hate it? No, no, maybe she was trying not to laugh and _that_ was why she was covering her mouth. Sadly, it made sense; she was laughing so hard and tearing up. For whatever reason, perhaps because it _was_ Christmas, she was trying not to hurt his feelings by laughing in his face.

Parking in the back of the Sunset Arms, Arnold kept the truck running for the heat. If he was going to be humiliated, he wanted it to be in private.

"Hey, Helga, I didn't mean to make you upset," Arnold apologized, turned to her, and hoped he could undo whatever it might have been to make the strongest girl he knew tear up.

"Dummy," Helga whispered. She tried to get a grip on the more bullish part of her personality but it was like trying to hold onto sand in the ocean. The part of her with the embarrassingly large school girl crush had taken over, and this part of her she would blame for her actions.

"Wha—?" Green eyes doubled in size as Arnold took a moment to realize what had happened. His brain slowly started to churn while trying to wrap itself around the fact that Helga was—_hugging _him. His heart picked up its pace as a blush colored his cheeks. When Arnold finally managed to convince himself she wasn't attempting to stab him in the back and awkwardly put his arms around her.

Helga held the precious bracelet tightly in her fist as she buried her face in Arnold's chest. She hadn't even aware that she had moved until she felt his arms come to rest around her shoulders. A hot blush flamed her face. She wanted to pull back, to push him away but she also didn't want him to see her tears _or_ the blush. Biting her lower lip she decided to wait until her expression was her normal bored façade.

"I—guess you like it?" Arnold questioned softly as if speaking any louder might shatter the fragile bubble the two were in. His heart was still thumping like a hyper jackrabbit in his chest. Before, when she'd grabbed on to him, he thought it was because of fear, but now, now there was no fear only—

"Sorry," she murmured, pushing herself away from him enough to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. Though his hold went lax, Arnold didn't move his arms from around her as he unconsciously soaked up the moment.

Butterflies of anticipation fluttered inside Arnold's stomach when her deep blue eyes slowly rose to meet his. His mouth parted slightly in amazement, he'd never seen Helga appear so—so _feminine_. The faintest of blushes colored her cheeks emphasizing her innocence as her sky blue eyes sparkled from the recent tears and from the light of the streetlamp he parked under. Her soft looking, wonderful smelling blonde hair framed her face, a light wave to the normally pulled back straight locks. There was a niggling in the back of his mind, a memory trying to fight to the surface of when he had seen her look like this before but the present moment of awe over powered the past.

"Helga," Arnold started, gently brushing back a few strands of her blonde hair. With faint echo of his normal half-sided smile, he was happy to find out that her hair was indeed as soft as he had thought it would be. Cupping her cheek, slowly tracing her cheekbone with his thumb, the enamored male lost track of everything but the wide-eyed girl next to him.

Even though he would look back at the moment and his cheeks nearly blister with the heat of his blush, that the time, everything seemed _right_. The low hum of the heater as it kept the two comfortably warm so the cold couldn't steal their attention was _right_, the abandoned street where he parked was _right_, the late hour—_everything _but especially the _girl_.

Helga's heart could not take any more and if she died right then and there, she'd die a happy woman. When Arnold had only marginally leaned forward, his peppermint scented breath fanning over her face, her heart swelled much like the Grinch's at the end of the cartoon. Her ribs were going to break and all her other organs were pushed out of place as her thundering heart nearly wept in joy.

He tilted his head slightly, as did she—

"_It's yoah momma callin',_ _yoah momma callin'…_"

The sudden song jerked the two teens back to reality and away from each other. Fumbling for his phone he had stuffed in his pocket, Arnold pulled it out and cleared his throat before pressing the 'talk' button.

"_Kiss her_," Stella hissed before Arnold could even manage to greet her.

"What?"

"_You should have kissed her, dummy_," his mother sighed. "_Men."_

Arnold put Rudolph's red nose to shame with the bright crimson his face turned. Wrenching around, eyes scanning every nook and cranny he could see, his want of a deep hole to bury himself in shot to the top of his list of things he wanted for Christmas. There, only a mere ten feet or so from the rear of his truck stood his parents, grandpa, and a handful of the boarders.

Flicking his eyes from the audience to his passenger, he was thankful to see that Helga had moved to the other side of the seat and was collecting her things. Cutting off the engine, ripping the keys from the ignition, the boy scrambled from the cab and slammed the door shut, causing Helga to jump in surprise.

"Wh-what are you all doing out here?" Arnold tried to be cool, to play it off as if he hadn't been about to kiss a girl who was _not _his girlfriend but when the first few words were squeaked out, he knew he failed miserably.

Stella had her arms crossed, a flashlight in one hand and her cell phone in the other with a pout on her face. Miles had the common decency to find the black, starless sky highly riveting. Phil, for his part, just gave a highly prideful smile, and winked at his grandson.

"Your grandmother's disappeared," a boarder coughed out, a slight blush tinting her cheeks.

"What's going on?" Helga asked, before shutting the truck door. "Why's everyone out here?"

Sighing, Stella put her hands on her hips and closed her eyes while shaking her head slowly. "Somehow, Gertie got a hold of a Santa Claus costume, filled a pillow case with stuff, shouted that she had to start her route to be able to deliver the presents on time, and then jumped out of the window."

"She _jumped_ out of the window?" Arnold paled in shock. Sure his grandma was spryer than most her age, but _still, _someone of her years leaping out windows could _not_ have ended well.

"A second story window," Miles added with a huff. "She slid down the roof and we haven't seen her since."

"Pooky likes to play Santa, but the last time she was arrested for breaking and entering," Phil concluded in a tone that was both pleased and disbelieving.

"Is she even _human_?" Helga deadpanned her question at Arnold and got a mutterings of 'don't know' and shoulder shrugs from Gertie's family.

"I'll help you look," Arnold offered before turning to Helga, but refused to look her in the eye. "You should probably go see about the kittens."

Shrugging, Helga wished them luck and trotted up the path leading to the back porch. Arnold watched her go, a goofy grin threatening to spread across his face when a sharp smack to the back of his head ruined his feeling.

"Ow!" Arnold yelped, rubbing the back of his head as he twisted around to see his mother glaring up at him. "What was that for, mom?"

Stella opened her mouth but snapped it shut, gave a noise of aggravation and stomped down the street, the beam of light from her flashlight swinging from one dark alley to the next. Looking over to his dad for answer, the other Short just shrugged and started to call out for his missing mother.

* * *

><p>Helga had held on to her mask of cool indifference up until she shut Arnold's bedroom door and leaned against it. Taking in a deep breath, she then squealed in delight, pushed off the door, grabbed the nearest pillow off the bed, shoved her face into it, and spun around the room.<p>

She didn't want to wake up the house with her noise (assuming anyone was left _in_ the house to wake up), but there was just no way she could contain her Arnold overload any longer!

Breathless, red in the face and too overflowing with joy to have a care in the world, Helga pulled the pillow away from her bed and screamed, jumping away from the bed after she had the life scared from her at finding a smiling face looking back at her.

"_Grandma!" _Helga swallowed, her heart slowly sliding back down her throat.

Gertie, who was still dressed in blaring red suit with white trim, patted the spot next to her on the bed. Holding up a faintly shaking finger, the blonde teen first inspected the state of her furry little charges. After being assured they weren't up and flipping out of the box, the girl hesitantly eased down beside the older woman.

"Merry Christmas, Alma," Gertie gave a wide, crinkled-at-the-edges smile, reached inside her Santa's coat and pulled out a worn green book.

A blonde eyebrow peaked on Helga's forehead as the elderly lady set the book in her lap. Glancing at the cover, then to the Santa-wannabe, the girl shrugged and carefully lifted the front cover. The other eyebrow raced up to its twin as her eyes took in the faded photographs. Beside each picture was a penned line or two in ink that had discolored over time.

"That's me," Gertie preened, pointing to a stern looking little girl with two ponytails tied on the side of her head. Next to her, or more correctly, _under her_ was a little boy who had his propped up on a hand as he glared at the camera.

"Phil," the woman said, with smugness in her voice as she tapped the boy's face.

"_No,_" Helga protested in disbelief, staring harder at the young face. "Why were you sitting on him?"

Crossing her arms, Gertie turned her head away sharply, "It's what he got for not noticing I parted my hair differently that day."

Helga wasn't even going to touch that one, and instead chose to continue on through the album. There was several more of the pair as children with one or the other wearing an expression of frustration. Then, when adolescence seemed to start, Gertie's scowl turned to a shy smile as Phil's annoyance melted into an adoring smile. The first colored photograph had Helga nearly falling off the bed, even though she _knew_ the two had married; it was still a surprise to see how _young _they had been. Gertie made a beautiful blushing bride in her mid-calf white dress holding pink a bouquet of pink flowers while next to her stood the brimming with pride groom in a nice suit.

"How old were you two?"

"17," Gertie replied, her smile never faltering. "Old coot was 18."

"Whoa," the teen whistled. The early life of the couple varied between happy shots of the couple to one of them in their job uniforms. Gertie had looked smart in pencil skirt and wrinkle free blouse as she stood in the library in a pair of heels. Phil showed up in his 'Steely Phil' boxers, dress greens from his time in the army, and several others that Helga couldn't place.

Around, what she guessed, was their mid-twenties, they went from a rambunctious pair of newlyweds to beaming parents as a tiny baby was suddenly added to the album. The name, Eugene, scrawled underneath left her to believe it was the father of the oddball Arnie the cousin. A page or two later and a new chubby face appeared, this time with _Miles_ in the captions.

Helga watched as the two brothers grew up, Gertie and Phil took their current roles in the boarding house and even when a familiar round-shaped blonde head started to appear next to Miles. A quirk of her lips had Helga wondering if Stella was aware of all the photos that her mother-in-law had of her in less-than-flattering situations. Her heart softened when she drew closer to the end and a blonde haired, green eyed little football head started to take the center.

Sure, there was the Eugene guy and his (supposed) wife with their litter of lads, but it wasn't _them _Helga had an interest in.

When Arnold's parents stopped showing up in the book, and the blue baseball cap took their place, Helga could almost feel the sadness coming from the confused little boy staring back at her. Biting her lip, the blonde knew from his and her past, this was around the age when she would first meet him.

It was around the fourth grade age that Helga had another shock. _She_ started to appear in the pictures! A few of her and Arnold almost nose to nose glaring at one another. There was one from the morning after when she had been _Deep Voice_ and aided Arnold in saving the neighborhood. Gertie even secured a snapshot of when they played _Romeo and Juliet. _

Helga's appearances didn't stop there, they actually increased. They waned when Arnold had gone to live with his parents while they finished up their work, but the first one of the Short's reuniting at the airport, when Helga had snuck in to see her beloved, was there.

Her face became hot with humiliation, knowing she was not as well hidden during certain times as the girl had thought she was. Only the last filled out page, was a recent picture of Helga and Arnold only nights before with her curled next to him, his arm wrapped around her shoulders with Olivia tucked against his neck.

The confused and embarrassed teen turned to the older woman, trying to come up with the right words and formulate the right question but before she could force anything off her tongue, Gertie winked, collected the book and shoved it back inside her coat.

"A woman's intuition," Gertie winked. "Happy Fourth of July, Alma!"

With that, the woman leapt off the bed, collected her sack (pillow case) full of presents (or whatever it was really) and shimmied up the ladder to the roof. Before shutting the skylight, a loud 'ho ho ho' was laughed out and then Helga was left alone with her waking kittens.

A smile was on her lips as she moved to her babies, though she didn't understand what it was that Gertie was trying to say exactly, something in her liked what it might mean.


	7. Rejoice

Chapter Seven

* * *

><p>"Merry Christmas!" Stella chirped happily as she greeted Helga with a bear hug and smile. It was nine in the morning and from the relaxed smiles from those already in the family room and dressed for the day, the girl had a feeling that she had 'slept in'. Who in their right minds over the age of <em>nine<em> and didn't have kids woke up earlier than _ten_ on Christmas?

"Uh," Helga started; glad she had brushed her teeth before trumping down stairs with the kittens in a small laundry basket. They had learned to crawl their way out of the shoe box, and, much to Arnold's joy, they had been able to 'potty' by themselves. Unfortunately, they were still far too young to understand how to use a litter box. She had been giving them wet-nap baths when Arnold's text to come down made her phone chirp.

There was a small protest from the basket, and the older woman beamed as she snatched it away from Helga and cooed at the occupants.

"And a merry _Cat_-mas to you, too, sweethearts."

"Come on, come on," Phil prompted, "some of us wanna live to open our gifts!"

"Calm down there, par'ner!" Gertie drawled out, flicking the brim of her tan cowboy hat up to stare her husband down. "Let the little miss situate herself and the younguns."

Miles arched an eyebrow and took a long sip of his coffee.

"Sit here," Arnold's mom instructed, nodding her head to the empty spot by her son.

Arnold shot his dad a look and mouthed '_see_' at him, Miles, again, choose to remain neutral and shrugged. Helga tentatively settled down next to her classmate and watched as Stella placed the kittens in a comfortable distance from the heater.

"Time for presents!"

Miles hefted himself up from his spot in one of the rockers and knelt down by the tree, plucking up a package and handing them out. When Helga's name was called for a gift, she was amazed and as she reached out to take it from Stella, who was playing 'elf', Arnold saw the glitter of her bracelet and smiled. Upon seeing his smile, the blonde girl blushed lightly and pulled her sleeve to cover the wrist.

A warm feeling bubbled in Arnold's chest at her reaction. It was something of a pleased excitement about having her wear something he gave her. Knowing her like he did (and her temper even better), the boy decided it was best not to point such things out.

One by one, each gift was handed out, unwrapped, admired before the next person was allowed to open theirs.

"Last round!" Miles announced, rolling his shoulder and reaching to the furthest gifts tucked away under the tree. "We have one for _Helga,_ from _Arnold_," Miles smiled at her but Stella all be pranced from her husband to the girl with the package in her hand.

"How sweet!" She sighed happily, moving back to help pass things out.

Making sure that everyone was chatting with someone else or at the very least involved in something other than the two teens, Helga leaned slightly toward Arnold and whispered.

"I thought you already gave me your gift?" she questioned.

He followed her example and inclined toward her, leaving only a few inches between their faces and causing the girl to blush another shade of red.

"I gave you _one_," Arnold replied in an equally hushed tone, "but this one," he nudged the box in her hands with his elbow, "is so the _other_ one can remain—a secret." When confusion flittered across her features, he rewarded her with a cool smile. "You know, for just _us_ to know."

He moved away from her, resting back on the cushion of the couch as she found it hard to even remember to breath.

_Us_.

The world circulated in her brain faster than her blood. _Arnold_ had referred to him and her as '_us'_ and that alone would have made her next three Christmases. It wasn't the first time he had termed them as an 'us' but it was the first time he had said so close to her and in a low toned voice.

Swallowing hard, Helga shook herself and with a minor tremble to her hands, pried off the lid to the flat, slim box. Turning into a puddle of jelly was _not_ something she would wish to explain later.

Tossing the lid on top of the other discarded boxes and shredded wrapping paper, the girl unfolded the tissue paper and her jaw dropped open.

Not only was this family strange, they were apparently born ninja photographers!

She lifted the glass frame from inside the box, and carefully studied the picture within. It was of the kittens and her. In the photo, she was in her favorite pink long t-shirt nightgown on bended knees with her legs tucked under her, Gunner rested at her knees, Noel on her lap and she was holding Olivia up with an expression that Helga wasn't even aware she _could _make.

"It's when their eyes were opening," Arnold explained, the cool image being thawed into nervousness. "I hope you like it; it's one of my fav—best of the kittens."

Helga blinked back to reality and turned her face to the twitching male, "It's—it's really nice, Arnold, thanks."

_Crash_!

The two schoolmates jerked their attention to where Gertie stood, triumphantly dancing on the coffee table, showing off her last gift.

"You—got your grandmother _hockey _gear?" Helga gaped, and couldn't believe a lady who was as old as dirt and crazy as a happy meal would be given something to put her fragile body at _further _risk.

Stella gave the befuddled guest a warm, though strained smile. "It's what she wanted."

"_Wooohooo!_" Gertie cried, jumping up on the coffee table, swinging her new hockey stick above her head, "Let the games begin!"

* * *

><p>It had taken one quick breakfast and costume change for the people to be ready but Helga and Arnold had delayed their departure by insisting they cleaned, fed, and made sure the kittens were warm and satisfied before they ventured out. Gertie was nearly bouncing with anticipation as they piled into the large van that was reserved for family outings. The old lady held her new hockey stick tightly and every now and then would let out a low, mischievous cackle.<p>

Miles and Stella exchanged looks and shrugged off her behavior. As long as Gertie didn't get arrested, they'd let her have her inane ways.

When the crew spilled out of the van at the local domed ice rink, Helga had politely declined the chance to skate, claiming that her feet were still too sore from work. Arnold was disinclined to venture out on the ice, fearful that one slip would do more damage to his healing appendage.

After buying them two cups of hot chocolate from a bored looking snack bar attendant, the teens settled themselves in the middle of the bleachers, watching the couples hold hands while on the other side a make-shift hockey game was starting up.

"So," Helga leveled her eyes at him after a few minutes of silence had slipped by. "How does a guy with _no_ job, _no_ allowance, and too much of a goody-two shoes to do anything illegal afford stuff?"

Arnold glanced away, studying the upper level seats off to the side of where they sat.

"It's—a trade secret," he coughed out lamely.

"Uh-huh, and what's the trade?"

"_That's_ the secret," Arnold countered, "and if I tell you, you might try to muscle in on it." He gave her a grin just to make sure she understood he was jesting, at least partly.

Rolling her eyes, she huffed. They sat without speaking until Helga's eyebrows knitted together in the middle of her forehead as another question formed.

"And how'd you fracture your wrist anyway?"

At this question Arnold sat up and leaned forward, trying to subtly hide the scarlet hue his face had turned. One blonde eyebrow rose in interest at his reaction. Sure there had been giggled guesses and random speculation but no one really _knew_, Phoebe said that Arnold hadn't even told _Gerald. _

"It—that would fall under job related and so it's a secret too," the boy winced as the words rolled off his tongue.

"What are you, football head, a friggin' _spy_ or something?" Helga huffed, crossing her arms as much as she could while making sure the cup with her hot chocolate didn't slosh over and onto her jeans. He turned to look at her as she scowled at nothing off to the side of the rink.

Shrugging, he decided to try soothing her budding aggravation by sharing with her something that he hadn't the guts to even tell his family yet.

"Not a spy," he sighed, looking down into his own hot chocolate. "Not going to be a college student _either._"

"_What!" _At Helga's shriek, Miles and Stella jerked their attention to the teens. Sheepishly, Arnold raised his cup and smiled; as the girl stared at him slack jawed and wide-eyed.

"You might not want to be so loud, Helga," Arnold suggested through his teeth, never losing the smile. The last thing he wanted to do was get into a public debate about his educational future with his parents on Christmas. He puffed out a breath when the couple went back to trying to outrace each other on the ice.

"Y-you," Helga stuttered out, shaking her head as if to get her vocal record from skipping, "But I heard you got a full ride to some hot shot university in California!"

Arnold's lips tweaked upward slightly. "I did."

"A-and your _dad_ is a professor at the local college here," she continued, her brain trying to scramble the right words together as fast as the shock would let her. "So I know you would get your tuition paid _there_, too."

He turned his face to her, his green eyes half-lidded but with an unmistakable glint of amusement.

"Yup, they would," he replied flippantly, "Still not going though."

The female was dumbstruck. She had known peers who dreamed about furthering their education but being unable to due to life circumstances, money, or lack of brains. Another set of schoolmates were looking forward to college for the freedom of the tyranny of parents. A handful actually were going to be able to go and for the purpose of learning, not binging and parties.

Slumping back in her seat, Helga lost the presence of mind to even commute to her jaw to shut her mouth, so open it hung.

Reclining back in the blue plastic seat, Arnold's entertained smile continued to remain on his face even after he took a sip of his cooling drink.

After a few minutes, the one question he had been expecting from her since his impromptu announcement finally made its down from her brain and out of her mouth.

"But why?"

The smile wavered marginally, as he flicked his gaze to meet her eyes before he darted them back to the rink.

"I fell in love," he replied shyly.

Even though, logically, Helga _knew_ he couldn't possibly be speaking about her, the schoolgirl in her still swelled with hope as the blood rushed to her face, causing a blush to cover her face. She sat quietly, waiting for him to continue but the bully in her brain shook the flower-picking, love-struck part of her violently.

He _has _a girlfriend; the bully reminded both the doe-eyed romantic and Helga. If he is in love, it's most likely with _her, _the girlfriend, not _her_, the prior bully.

Frowning, she did what she was best at, hiding her heart with anger. Crossing her arms tighter across her chest, she scoffed.

"Please don't tell me that _Candace_ convinced you to give up college for _her_ sake," Helga was silently and sickly proud of herself for not sounding an ounce of disappointed as she snapped out the words.

Arnold snorted. "_No_, this has _nothing _to do with Candace." Guilt washed over him at the thought of his girlfriend. "I—will probably be breaking up with her later."

_That_ had the romantic smashing the bully's nose as hope started to grow once more in Helga's heart.

"Later? Like, after graduation?"

"After we leave here," Arnold corrected.

He was being a regular grab bag of surprises today, Helga mentally muttered.

"You're going to break up with her on _Christmas?" _She questioned to clarify.

"I've been putting it off for weeks," he answered with a long sigh. "I just—don't even _want_ to make time for her anymore."

_Score!_ Helga screamed on the inside, while on the outside she kept her face neutral. She sat silently as her hope and lovey-dovey side of her made crowns from flowers and frolicked in the sunshine of her mind. Then, unbidden, compassion stole the spotlight and yanked on her heart strings.

"You can't," she huffed.

Jerking his face toward her, Arnold's eyebrows shot up his forehead as he stared in disbelief at his companion.

"What?"

Shifting around in her chair as a form of nervous fidgeting, Helga wrestled with the words until she at last sighed and let her head drop back, staring blankly at the top of the dome of the ice rink.

"You—can't break it off with her, football-head, it's _Christmas_." She swallowed and closed her eyes. "Only _jerks_ would do something like that, and you're _not _a jerk. You don't want to be remembered as the heartless creep who broke a girl's heart on _Christmas_, do you? Just—," Helga pulled her head up, lulling it to the side to stare at Arnold's expression before continuing, "Just hold off a few days, you know?"

He blinked, surprised at her intervention on Candace's behalf and floored over the compliment, even with it buried and disguised in her neutral tone and apathetic attitude. Without his meaning to, one end of his mouth started to draw up in a half-smile. He had been right, he had _always_ been right. Helga wasn't as bad as she wanted people to make her out to be. It was no secret that the two girls despised the other, but even with that, she refused to permit Candace to be hurt on the holiday.

"Okay," he agreed, sitting up straight. "I'll wait a bit longer."

Helga, in return, shrugged.

A few minutes crept by before the blonde girl turned to Arnold, who was still sporting his pleased grin, and prodded, "So—who or what is this 'love' that's keeping you from school?"

"Photography."

"Huh," was all she could come up with as her brain was still rejoicing over his previous statements about his return to singledom. "I guess that makes sense."

A palatable silence fell on the two. Helga trying to digest and refresh her new Arnold information, and the male trying to figure out how to approach the subject of the previous' night almost kiss. Okay, so it was a _should-have-been_ kiss.

Arnold frowned. Stella must have been sending him subliminal messages at night or something. He was a not a cheater, and even though he held no acute affections for Candace any longer, he would never do anything with another girl while he had a girlfriend.

In a few days though, it wouldn't be a problem. He'd be free and single.

When a blush threatened to redden his face, Arnold shoved back the image of him kissing Helga and tried to bury the butterflies the image left in his heart.

As Helga watched Grandma Gertie put the younger hockey player to shame by not only stealing the puck, smashing into three of the other players without missing a single beat, but also managed to rocket the puck into the net, past the dumbfounded goalie.

"You're lucky, Football-head," the teen pointed out distantly. "You shouldn't ever take your family for granted."

Arnold, perplexed, had his cup lifted to his lips when he glanced down at Helga. Her blue eyes were watching the on goings of the ice rink with amusement, but there was a clear sadness lingering there as well.

Sighing to herself, Helga stood, straightened out her shirt and turned to him slightly.

"I'm going to toss this and get some popcorn, want anything?" When he shook his head no, she shrugged and made her way down the steps.

Stella skated smoothly up to the section Arnold had claimed and glanced at Helga's retreating form. Shaking her head she gave her son a meaningful look.

"You know, Arnold, you are going to _have_ to kiss her one day," his mother decided smartly, " either on the mouth of or good-bye." Perked eyebrows, a wisp of a sardonic grin and half-lidded eyes added a visual representation to her words. "Your choice, son."

* * *

><p>The day after Christmas, Arnold beamed like the highlights of a car, and Helga glowered as she scrubbed the carpet with vicious strokes and circles. While he was enjoying having twelve little furry feet scuttle after him, mewing whenever he allowed them to <em>catch <em>him, she was forced to clean up the messy 'surprises' they'd left after escaping from their box last night.

"This is so cute," Arnold gleefully announced, much like a child, as he shuffled from one side of the room to the other.

Olivia, Gunner, and Noel all turned, dutifully marching after him as fast as their tiny, slightly less than coordinated legs could carry them.

Helga rolled her eyes, inspected the last spot she had to clean (at least that was visible without moving furniture), threw the rag into the bucket of soapy, now filthy water, and announced she'd be back. After dumping the used water down the toilet, flushing and washing out the bucket before putting it back in the hall closet, the blonde stomped back to Arnold's room.

Seeing that Arnold was still content to wear the kittens out by having them run after him, Helga let a ghost of a smile take her lips. Her luck being as testy and unstable as it had been all her life when it came to anything _Arnold_, had him looking up at her at the very moment, their eyes met and she _hmmphed_ and flopped down on his bed. Lying on her back, she tucked one arm under her head, the other held her phone as she scrolled through her apps with her thumb, one ankle resting on the bent knee of the other leg. She kept her face neutral, but her treacherous eyes held a sideways surveillance on the male and three baby cats.

He had entertained himself with their development whenever he ventured up to overtaken bedroom. A few days before, he had found it enthralling and chuckle worthy to make a 'c' with his thumb and pointer finger, run it over a kitten's head, and when their ears would spring up after he passed over them with his hand, he'd add a 'boing' sound effect to it. Helga, after being begged, watched him do so repeatedly with an arched eyebrow.

Kittens, apparently, didn't get the same amount of dignity cats did.

"I think I tired 'Livia out," Arnold announced, panting lightly.

Turning, she saw the tiny grey kitten blink up at the boy with wide, beautiful deep blue orbs from the side of the room he'd just left. The other two were pleading in high pitched tones around Arnold's feet, tiny sharp claws getting caught in the fabric of his socks.

"Then it's bed time," the girl replied.

Agreeing, Arnold picked each kitten up, one at a time, nuzzled them with his nose before placing them gently back in the large cardboard box (the weaving of the laundry basket proved to be more of a ladder than a wall to the little adventurers). If she had been more of the child-wanting, house-wife-in-training type of girl, Helga was sure she'd be making goo-goo eyes at the loving way the male treated the tiny triplets.

However, she was _not_.

"Why don't you ever go to Phoebe's parties?" Arnold questioned as he plopped down on the bed, next to her waist, putting his good hand behind him, on the other side of Helga to lean on it. Lazily looking from her phone to him, Helga blinked back at him without a hint of interest.

"Why ya wanna know, bucko?" She mouthed off, already on the defensive.

Swallowing a sigh, Arnold did his best to seem casually curious instead of downright perplexed.

Giving a light, one shoulder shrug, he decided that staring out the skylight was better than looking down at her. Oh, he wouldn't mind looking at her, but he was _still_ a guy and she was on lying down on his bed, and they were—alone. Coughing, he decided to cut that train of thought off before he did something stupid or added more fuel to the Helga-Arnold fire his mother was already trying to kindle.

"Curious. Phoebe is and has been your best friend for forever, and she's been doing this Christmas-New Year's party thing since seventh grade, can't help but _be_ curious."

Helga jabbed her thumb harder than necessary on the face of her phone. She couldn't tell him why! There was no _way_ they'd gotten so close in almost the three weeks they'd been raising their feline family that she could be that up front and honest with him.

What could she say? That she'd _gone_ to the first party, and tucked herself between one of the oversized plastic plants Phoebe's dad seemed overly fond of and the wall? Or that she'd gone the next year only to witness Arnold being dragged into the closet with some girl who was a year below them, for 'seven minutes of heaven'?

That in those seven minutes, her heart broke into so many pieces it resembled a handful of sand? Yeah, that would _really_ not have Arnold blushing and muttering apologies without knowing why _or_ he'd want to know why it bothered her so much.

No, she couldn't face any of those questions or even the possibility of a wistful sigh as he recalled his time in 'heaven'.

She huffed, turning under the bridge of his arm and body so her back was to him.

"I'm not much for parties," Helga tried to tapper her emotions out of the response, not wanting pity from him.

"Oh," Arnold replied softly, watching as the girl by him curled into herself once again. For a second, he saw pain flit across her face before she'd moved. Knowing that her shut down was the equivalent of a slammed book, he let out a sigh and turned his face up to the skylight once more.

* * *

><p>"Are you <em>sure<em> you want to go with that jaundice girl?" Stella asked, not even trying to veil her dislike of her son's chosen girlfriend.

"I thought it was Janice?" Miles admitted, his cup of milk raised halfway to his mouth.

"It's _Candace_," Arnold corrected, giving his parents a flat look. Since the first breakup and make-up, his mom had made it blaring clear she held no affection for the teenage female. The few times that Candace had been invited to the house, by Arnold, Stella had made sure to make the girl's time there memorable—just not in a _good_ way.

"Well, whatever it is," the woman replied dismissively, "Why even bother with _her_?"

He could tell his mom that this was the last event he'd 'bother' with Candace, but he was pretty sure that the woman's impending screech of gladness would shatter his eardrums (and the first floor windows).

"Because I said I would," Arnold answered evasively. Stella muttered a few choice words under her breath, but Miles, who had used the same non-answering answer technique with his wife before, hiked an eyebrow up at his son.

Much to the younger Short's relief, a distraction passed through the kitchen doorway, head down and a contemplative look on her face.

"Helga?"

Stella's gloomy mood lifted instantly as she craned her neck the girl snap her head up and over to the table where the small family was sharing a dinner of left overs from the week.

"Something wrong, hon?" The older woman asked.

Giving a one-shoulder shrug, Helga plugged in the blender and pulled out a bottle of water and two cans of canned cat food from the designated cabinet. Since the formula was only meant to sustain the kittens until they were old enough to stomach something more substantial, she had began to switch them from milk to liquefied wet food with a healthy amount of water.

"No," the teenager finally answered after she cracked the bottle open and poured it into the blender. "There's nothing—not really."

Arnold glanced at his dad, who lifted his eyebrows to his son, as if to let him know that he was on his own with the female. Worry started to fill up his stomach as he watched his classmate go through the motions of opening, dumping, and throwing away the cans before securing the top of the canister and pressing the correct buttons.

"Do you need help?" the boy offered, abandoning the table.

Stella and Miles forgotten, Arnold stood close to Helga's side as she lifted the container and started to carefully fill the tiny bottles with the aid of a funnel.

"I've got it," she responded, her tone giving even more evidence that her mind was somewhere else.

Touching her arm lightly, Helga flinched her attention to the male.

"What's wrong?" He questioned in a lower voice, flicking a glance over to his parents as they suddenly started to find the wall the center of importance. Frowning, he rolled his eyes, sometimes they were _so _obvious.

"It's nothing, Arnold," Helga assured, "at least I hope—anyway, can you do something for me?"

"Sure," he answered with an easy smile.

"Don't stay out too late," her voice was soft and almost _weak_. If anyone met Helga even for a moment in time, they knew she was a lot of things but weak was far from her attributes or limitations.

Taken back by this request, the feeling of something being wrong increased ten-fold.

"Helga, what's wrong?"

Capping two bottles and putting the others in the refrigerator, she kept her face angled down but turned it marginally to him before she left the kitchen.

"I'm just—worried about one of the kittens."

* * *

><p>Arnold drummed his fingers along his red plastic cup with his good hand while he kept his injured one against his stomach as he leaned on a pillar so he could overlook to the action below. It had taken only one sloppy misstep from Harold and into the still-healing appendage to make tears come to Arnold's eyes and a firm decision to stay as far from the thumping, hand-raised (some being rhythmically challenged) masses on the dance floor.<p>

Earlier, Candace had been nearly floating when they'd pulled up to the rented facility of this, Phoebe's last party. The event gained in popularity and grandeur over the years. What started off as a handful of friends had swelled into nearly two hundred bodies pressed into wherever it was her parents' had rented. Since this was to be the final _high school_ gala, the Heyerdahls' spared no expense.

The location was in the recently revived night club district in an old red brick, four-story building that had been dubbed, _Celebrations. _It had been completely gutted and redesigned to appeal to the older-than-tweens, but too-young-to-drink crowd. The top floors centers had been demolished, making the first floor ceiling the skylights of the roof. The dance floor was lined with tiles that would light up to the beat of whatever song playing, and was in the heart of the building. The other three floors' spaces were kept as gaming, talking, or snack areas and had safety rails so all could look down on the dance floor without having any (or many) falling bodies.

When Arnold and Candace made their appearance, the party was already in full swing. Phoebe stood at the entrance, ever the dutiful hostess and smiled and greeted them warmly. Gerald, who was standing to the petite girl's side, lit up when he saw Arnold.

"Hey, man!" The boy greeted before they preformed their ever-the-same handshake. "How's it been?"

"It's—," Arnold started, casting a glance to where Candace was giggling with another girl as she made her way to the dance floor, once he was sure she was out of earshot (though the thrumming base made civil tones impossible), he turned back to Gerald with a slight frown, "It's going to stop, actually."

Gerald's brown eyes widened briefly before he shook his head, clamped a hand on his friend's shoulder and wished him the best of luck.

Arnold tried to dance with his girlfriend, but then Harold happened and so Arnold excused himself from Candace. She shrugged and found another partner easily enough. He had scouted out the open soda bar on the second floor, snagged a cup of Sprite, and found a place to rest on one of the pillars.

He _had_ to breakup with Candace, but it didn't make it any easier. The more he thought about it, the more he felt his spine being chipped away.

She hadn't really done anything _wrong_ to deserve being dumped, his kindness whispered.

In the past, _she'd_ always do the breaking up, logic argued, and then what? Candace would run off with whoever caught her attention, spend some time with the guy and then come back pleading for understanding.

Huffing, Arnold took another sip of his drink, staring blankly at the bopping bodies below. Fishing out his cell phone from his jacket pocket, he checked the time and to see if he had missed any texts.

Frowning and a hair disappointed Helga hadn't decided to poke fun at him or whatever; he stuffed the device back in his pocket, finished his drink and steeled his nerves. It was best to just get it over and done with, while the night was still young. At least then Candace could find someone's broad shoulder to cry on.

And, Arnold thought with a quiet smile, he could spend the rest of the night with Helga.

She was worried about one of the kittens, but when he'd checked up on all four of them, they all appeared to be happy and healthy. Olivia lay in Helga's lap as Noel and Gunner tried to run around, sometimes falling paws over tail.

Downing the rest of his drink in one gulp, he sighed and tossed his emptied cup into the nearest trashcan. Making his way down the flight of stairs, he spotted his soon to be _ex _girlfriend chatting and laughing with a group of other underclassmen. Sucking in a lungful of air, Arnold released it in a steady, slow manner before he made his way to her.

She was animatedly talking about something, the other girls giggling behind their hands, but as he walked up, they others feel silent with light blushes splashing across their cheeks. All the sudden shyness was lost on the male but not to his girlfriend as Candace made a point of wrapping her arms around Arnold's good one and snuggling up close to him.

"Hey, I saw a balcony out on the second floor; it doesn't seem to be crowded right now. Wanna go?"

Candace shot a smug smile to her friends before giving a slight shrug but turning him toward the staircase. She was proud about her relationship with not only an upperclassman, but one who was smart _and _one of the star athletes at their school. All her female classmates had been dumbfounded by Candace's stroke of luck and then turned nearly jade with envy.

While she was thinking that he wanted to be alone to have a heavy make-up, make out session, Arnold was reciting the reasons and words he'd use to tell her it was over.

It would be the last _easy _thing he did that night.


	8. Real

Chapter 08

* * *

><p>Authoress' Note: What in blue blazes took me <em>so <em>long to get this chapter out? Simple. I dreaded writing it.

* * *

><p>There was a bounce of freedom in his step as Arnold walked up the stoop stairs. He had successfully done what he set out to do! He was able to keep his promise to Candace and take her to Phoebe's party, but also he was able to not wimp out and broke up with the younger girl. It was the first time he'd broken up with <em>her, <em>therefore he'd hope she knew how serious he was about the finality of the relationship.

He opened the door, not having to worry about the various pets running out; it was too cold for them to move from the warm den. As he opened his mouth to announce his return, a bundle of blonde and worry barreled into him.

"Arnold!" Stella exclaimed, "You have to find Helga _now_."

Blinking back the shock, he didn't bother to try to take off his coat as he flicked his gaze to the staircase that led up to the second story.

"She's not here! She left!" His mother was near tears as she grabbed fistfuls of his thick coat. "You have to find her!"

"I—I don't know where she might have gone!" Arnold explained, trying to keep the worry from seeping into his bones. Why would she just up and leave?

"She went to the emergency vet's off of MacArthur and Hefner," Miles' less theatrical, but still tense voice offered from the den.

"I know it." Arnold confirmed before he turned, opened the door, and jumped down the stoop to the sidewalk. Jogging to the back of the building, he climbed in the still warm cab and revved up his truck. The ride took less than ten minutes but his disused impatience started to coat his nerves. Why did she have to go to the vet's? Why didn't she _call _him? She was the one who preached on the saint-like qualities of cell phones!

When he finally made it to the veterinarian's office, he didn't care that he double parked and slammed his truck into drive. Muttering as he opened his door and all but face planted into the wet street before he remembered to unclick his seat belt. Throwing the door closed, he took two steps toward the clinic's door when a familiar black and pink beanie caught his eye and changed his destination.

"Helga!" he announced, running up to the bench the same time as the old city bus pulled up. "Helga, what's going on? What's wrong?"

The girl stood, and ever so slowly, turned to him. When she lifted her blood shot blue eyes, he was stunned into silence. So much was his surprise he never even seen her hand move. Arnold could do nothing but stand in shock, his hand rising to cover his slowly reddening cheek from where she'd slapped him.

"I hate you, Arnold."

Helga's angry, hurt-filled blue eyes glared up at him. She swallowed hard and shook her head, disappointment and heartbreak flaring from her like fireworks. Without anything else to say or do, she turned on her heel and climbed onto the waiting bus.

Still, all he could do was breathe, while under his fingers the abused skin grew warmer from the sharp assault. The driver gave a flat look at the boy before shifting the doors closed and drove off into the night. Arnold watched, his heart clenching painfully in his chest, as he spotted Helga sitting toward the back with her head back and tears streaming down her cheeks.

* * *

><p>Shoving the door open and numbly kicking it shut with the heel of his shoe, Arnold only became aware of another presence in the foyer when she spoke.<p>

"Did you find her?" Stella asked anxiously as her son shrugged off his coat, his mind still in a stunned state and refusing to process anything from the past hour. He glanced up at his mother, confused and clouded eyes meeting the concerned and hopeful pair.

With blind movements, he hung up his coat and answered her with one abrupt nod before edging around her and to the stairs.

"Arnold?" She questioned softly. Stella watched, feeling rather helpless, as her only child made his slow assent up the stairs and disappeared on the second floor landing.

He numbly dropped down on his mattress, the heel of his left hand pressed against his forehead as he rested his elbow on his bent knee. Arnold didn't dare look up, didn't check on the quiet kittens, and tried to fight back the onslaught of pain. Swallowing thickly, his eyes betrayed him first as they became to become overly wet. Gripping a tuff of his bangs with his fingers, he pulled at his hair, trying to avert his mind but it was no use.

After Helga's dramatic departure, he had gone to the clinic to learn why she had been there. Perhaps she'd run out of formula? He'd hoped it was something as simple as that but no, it was with condolences that the front-desk clerk answered his questions.

One tear beaded up and rolled partially down his face before dropping off his cheek, then another, and another in a slow steady pace. When the first sob racked his body, whatever strength he had fled along with his illusion of the night being a nightmare and allowed the tears to flow freely.

* * *

><p>Helga shut the door to her house, threw the locks into place and dragged her feet over to the small table that held the phone and growing pile of mail for her parents. Shoulders slumping, her purse fell to the hardwood floor with a dull <em>thump<em>, followed by her coat. The small red light that indicated a phone message blinked cheerfully at her. Normally, the girl would glare at it and not bother about whatever it was that _whoever _it was had to say. If it was truly important, they would have texted or called her cell, right?

She looked down the darkened hallway that led back to the laundry room and kitchen, then back at the winking red light. Sighing, she lifted her hand and pressed on the 'play' button.

"_You have five new messages._"

Helga turned and leaned against the wall, arms hanging uselessly at her sides.

"_First message," _the automated voice informed and then stated the time and date on which the message was left.

"_Hey, Helga," _It was Bob. He almost sounded—hesitant. Normally, she would have rolled her eyes and just deleted the message, but she lacked the motivation to do anything other than stare at the baseboard across the hall from where she stood.

"_I heard that the midnight madness was a hit," _again there was an uneasy pause; _"I checked the system and the profits were almost double what I figured. So, I just wanted to say—you know, good job, girl." _

There was a soft click of the phone being hung up. Helga made a half-hearted, humorless noise in the back of her throat. She should be smug, doing back flips (mentally only of course) because of Bob's reluctant praise of her.

Instead, all she could think of was her failure. Tears burned against her already sore eyes as the moisture started to form. She failed. She failed at something that she'd been so sure she'd been doing _right_. It was precious and fulfilling and—she failed.

She did her best though, a small, weak voice protested in her mind.

And yet, it wasn't enough. _She _wasn't enough to keep-

The machine's voice announced the second message's information.

"_Hello, Miss Helga Pataki, this is Donald Drinsta from –" _Helga blocked out the rest of _that _recording.

The third was from a wayward aunt wishing the family a safe and fun holiday, the fourth was a telemarketer, and by the time fifth finally rolled around, the teen's tears were dried again.

"_Merry Christmas, baby sister!" _Helga flinched at her sister's cheerful voice. "_And because I know you might not be home for the week, a Happy New Year, too! Mommy and Daddy told me about what you are doing, and I wanted to let you know that I think it is great that you are taking care of motherless kittens!"_

A painful stab of guilt and shame hit her straight in the heart as she clenched her jaw.

"_I just wanted to let you know how **proud** I am of you! I always knew that you were a tender hearted girl underneath it all. The kittens are truly lucky to have someone as strong and sweet as you watching over and loving them. "_

Helga had to bite her lower lip to keep a sob from breaking free from her throat, but nothing kept her eyes from watering up. She blinked her eyes and two fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

_"I have to go, but could you tell Arnold that he is just a wonderful person for everything he is doing for you and your litter—"_

The rest of the message was lost to Helga as the sob finally busted out of her mouth, and her eyes over flowed with tears. Sliding down the wall, when her bottom hit the floor, she drew her knees up to her chest, buried her face into the palms of her hands and cried what was left of her heart out.

How did Olga, no matter how innocently, always seem to know what to say to wreck havoc on her little sister's world? Couldn't she have stopped with the well wishes for the holidays? Oh, _no_, Olga just _had _to go and remark on the two sorest, most achingly tender subjects of Helga's hellish night.

The kittens—some mother she turned out to be.

Then there was _Arnold_.

Her sorrow faded into anger at the thought of the boy who she had spent her adolescence adoring had shown a side of him she would have staked her life on didn't exist. But it did. Did it ever. He had been so—cruel. So _cold_. It wasn't like him, but it had been him. It had to be. He'd barely given his phone number had anyone outside his family, besides Gerald and her, and always kept the cell in his pocket, close to him.

Why? Why did he have to disappoint her tonight? Why couldn't he have showed his nasty side on any other night but _this _night? Even if he did hate her, she was so sure that he loved—

Another pain filled sob escaped. Helga was already a weeping mess on the floor, blessedly alone, as she felt the pieces of her heart break at the thought that she had lost two of the most precious things in her life within a few hours.

* * *

><p>"Hey, sport," Miles addressed, as Arnold staggered into the kitchen. The teen made a noise of reply before dropping down into one of the empty seats at the table. The professor eyed his son, noting that he was pale and a deep sadness in his down cast eyes.<p>

"Would you like some late breakfast?" Stella questioned softly, not even bothering to see the state Arnold was in. Truth be told, she had known he hadn't slept much and on the couch. Because of where Miles' and her bedroom was located, directly above the living room, she had heard the television most of the night.

Dropping his face to the table until his forehead gently bumped on the surface, Arnold gave a deep sigh.

"No, thanks, mom."

At his defeated reply, Stella turned, worry creasing her forehead. She had so many questions that were itching on the tip of her tongue, but with one quick look at her husband, who gave a discreet shake of his head, she turned back to the skillet. Miles wanted to handle this.

He had told her she had done enough for Arnold, Helga, and the kittens—not all of it good. She had to bite back her reply but some small (very small) voice in her head made her keep it in. Helga had messaged Arnold the night prior, right before running from the house, and Stella was not happy about being left in the dark.

Oh, her husband could handle the situation, but he _would _fill her in on all the details later. If he thought he'd get out of telling her, then she would prove him wrong—she had her ways. A woman had her _ways_.

As Stella began to laugh quietly to herself, the elder Short male sighed. Miles, the ever level headed, had promised to handle everything—or at least as much as he could since the particulars were still out of his understanding.

_Thump._

Quirking an eyebrow, Miles watched as his son lifted his head slightly off the table only to plunk it back down again.

_Thump_.

Folding the newspaper and putting it to the side, the professor propped his elbow on the table and tucked his fist under his chin as he watched Arnold repeat his masochistic exercise.

_Thump_.

"So," his father began, "Is there something you want to talk about?"

_Thump_.

"Not really, dad."

Miles was going to shrug it off, let the boy come to him but when he caught his wife narrow eyed glare; he quickly rethought his strategy of retreat. Working over his wording the man cleared his throat.

_Thump_.

"What's on your mind, Arnold?"

The younger male's head stopped mid drop and after a breath, Arnold turned his green eyes to his father.

"Helga. Last night. The kittens. _Olivia_." he sighed, and buried his fingers into his blonde hair and rested his head in his palm. "Everything just exploded and I don't know why." Arnold felt his eyes burn with unshed tears as he tried to go through the past few days objectively to find out just when he had messed up.

"Have you talked to her today?"

The teenager tightened his jaw to keep his emotions from bubbling over as it did the night before. He hadn't been able to get any sleep while lying on his bed. Helga's shampoo had infused into his pillowcase and it only served to bring back the fact she was gone—angry and more hurt than he could ever recall her being.

She was normally reserved when it came to her softer emotions, but last night her walls had been broken down and the raw pain had taken his breath away. That's when she had slapped him. In the heartbeat of hesitation, she struck. Knowing her, well, her fists, as well as he did over the years; she had put a lot into that hit, but not everything.

"No," Arnold finally answered with a sigh, "I don't think she really wants to hear from me right now."

"So you are just going to wait?" Miles _hmmed_ and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms against his chest. "Take it from me, son, the longer you wait, the longer a woman will marinate in whatever it is bothering her. Unlike meat, time does _not _make them tender—_ow!"_

Rubbing the side of his head, he picked up the plastic stirring spoon that had hit him and gave a stern look to Stella who lifted an eyebrow in challenge while placing a hand on her hip _daring _him to say something.

Arnold, accustomed to his parents' odd way of arguing, didn't even flinch as his dad muttered something under his breath and dropped the spoon on the table but instead sagged back in his seat. As much as he didn't want to have his hand (or any part of his body really) re-injured, he knew he couldn't just let this situation sit and wait. The kittens _needed _Helga.

Upon thinking of the kittens, Arnold winced as his heart constricted. He had to talk to Helga. While his mother was urging his dad to 'bring it', he quietly went into the living room to get his phone. Ever since Helga gave it to him, he'd had a habit of connecting the charger before he went to sleep. After a few minutes of rummaging around the pile of stuff he kept in the front room, he rolled his eyes. He had been in such a haze last night that he had gone straight to his _room_.

Shaking his blonde head, he trooped upstairs, checked on the sleeping babies, and then flipped the sheets back and forth and tossed his pillows off the bed.

The phone wasn't there.

It was strange he wouldn't have had it with him. Pressing the heel of his healthy hand against his forehead, he forced his brain to call up the previous night and the last time he'd seen his cell.

_At the party_, Arnold remembered. He had just finished checking to see if he had any messages from Helga since she had been acting strange before he left and seemed concerned over one of the kittens. After that, he had—

"Shoved it into my coat pocket," he huffed and hit himself on the side of his head as if in mock punishment. Once on the first floor again, he could hear his father yelp before his mother gave an _eep_ of surprise as he pulled open the coat closet door.

The cell phone wasn't in his coat.

Putting his coat on, Arnold ventured outdoor with his truck keys in hand. It took him ten minutes to be completely satisfied that the phone wasn't stuck between the seat belt and the seat, underneath the bench, or even stuck in the ashtray.

Throwing himself back in the seat, he wrinkled his forehead in concentration. It wasn't in the house, the clothes he wore yesterday, or in his truck. Did it grow legs and run away? He clearly remembered having it at _Celebrations_ because he had been stalling in the break up with Candace by checking his mailbox every few minutes. Perhaps it fell out at the party?

He could always try calling it, right?

Huffing, he made his way back into the house only to hear his mother shriek a heartbeat after suspicious splash could be heard from the kitchen. Arnold didn't want to go into the war zone but he needed to borrow his dad's cell phone to call and see if anyone answered _his _cell phone.

"Hey, dad," he started as he stepped into the kitchen. His mom was drenched while his father had various splatters of pancake batter dripping off of him. "Can I borrow your phone?"

Slopping off a glob from his hand, Miles dug in his back pocket and fished out the device. Handing it to his son, he snatched up a mostly clean drying towel and mopped his face.

"Where's yours?" Stella questioned, wringing out her hair over the sink.

"Dunno, about to call it." Arnold punched in his number and frowned when it went straight to his voice mail. "Weird."

The cell phone's makers were using its long battery life as one of its main selling points and he had made sure it was fully charged before he went to Phoebe's party. There would be no reason, unless it was utterly destroyed, that it would be off. If someone found it, they would have left it on incase the owner called, wouldn't they?

Something wasn't adding up.

"I can't find my phone, last time I remember seeing it was at the party—around eight."

"Huh, did you ever get it back from Candace?" Stella questioned, confused.

"Candace?" Arnold's eyebrows rose before crashing down together in deep thought. "She doesn't even know I _have _a phone."

"Really? Then why did she answer it last night when I called to tell you Helga was going to the vet's?"

At his mother's words, Arnold's already baffled mind cluttered with questions. When did Candace learn he had a cell? He never told her and he certainly would have heard about it when she found out. How would she have gotten his phone? _When _had she? Why wouldn't she have told him about the call?

Unless—

A wicked, sly concept worked its way into his forethought. It was beyond Arnold's natural, honest nature to even consider scheming but he had been alive for umpteen years and lived with those who were unscrupulous. He learned, sadly, to think like some of those people. Not to act or even seek deviousness, but he could understand their logic to a certain point.

No! No, there was simply no way that she would do that to him. They had been together (hit and miss) for almost two years! Why would she back stab him like that? And, really, his kind side defended, the question still remained: when would she have gotten his phone?

So back to the drawing board, as it were, and at least he knew that Candace had had his phone at some point and might _still_ have it.

"Mom, what did you say to her when she answered?"

"Nothing really." Stella crossed her arms against her chest and frowned a little as a few drops of water dripped to the floor. "Couldn't get more than her name out before she _hung up _on me."

Numbly, Arnold nodded.

He said he was going out, and quietly left the kitchen as his Grandpa entered. There was a string of his grandkid-friendly curses and a chorus of muttered apologies and promises to clean up their mess from his parents.

* * *

><p>Helga wanted to spend her day buried in a carton of Rum Raisin ice cream, camped out on the couch, and watching whatever sappy movie that cable was re-running. <em>However<em>, her day wasn't to be one of peace. She knew she should have just tried to flush her cell phone down the toilet, jam it down the garbage disposal, or simply have left it _off. _

Ten in the morning Gabe had called, pleaded for her to come in (on her vacation!) and to wrangle the computer program that was buckling under all the stress of returns and clearance crazy shoppers. She was punching in keys with a fury she knew she _should _have been feeling at being a sap and catching the bus down to _Bob's_ but she lacked the fire.

It was actually a mutated brother of a blessing that Gabe phoned; at least it got her out of the house and away from being alone with her thoughts. Being alone with her thoughts and the haunting failure was too much, but she used her years of emotional blockage and pushed all the sorrow into her stomach. The last thing she needed to do was to start bawling in the back stock room with the employees around.

The _other _thing, the _Arnold_ thing, she couldn't ignore but she couldn't deal with presently. There was only so much shock and heartbrokenness that one girl could take before she shut down and shut out the world around her.

What she _could _focus on was the numbers that were supposed to be in one of five columns, colored in black or red font—how the heck did purple end up in the book keeping system? And what was this 'whoops' column that had popped up between the 'credit' and 'cash' columns?

_This _was why she could laugh in the face of all her math teachers. This was also the reason why she would be stopping off at the corner store for an industrial sized bottle of aspirin. Things could be worse; she could be up in the front of the store.

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, sir," Candace ground out through clenched teeth and a smile, "but without the receipt, a store credit is all I am allowed to give you."<p>

It wasn't all she _wanted _to give the irritating man who had been fighting with her for the past ten minutes. Apparently concept of 'store policy' was something the costumer just did not grasp. As tempting as it was to 'pass the buck' to a supervisor or manager, but they were all currently battling it out with different returns and customers who had been passed their way.

She was stuck.

When Gabe, the manager on duty, slunk by, probably hoping to make it to the office before being caught, she called out to him. The man's shoulders went into a rigid line of tension before he turned with a pressed smile on his face.

"What seems to be the problem?" He could probably already accurately _guess _the problem, but he had to ask for the sake of the customer.

"This girl here says I can't get a refund," the irate man bristled. "I hope that _you _are more reasonable."

Gabe's face twitched and Candace saw and seized her opportunity.

"Since you've got this, I'm going to take my break." Without waiting for the affirmative from her boss, Candace pulled her employee ID badge from the computer bank and briskly walked away from the registers. She breezed past the main entry doors when someone stopped her.

"Candace." The girl turned to see a disheveled Arnold standing in front of her; green eyes narrowed slightly—the kind of look someone wore when they were hoping that they were wrong about something—and a small frown on his face.

"Arnold," she returned icily, praying that someone would call her over to assist a customer. Anything would have been better than to be face-to-face with her newly broken up boyfriend.

"We need to talk."

"I'm working."

"You just said you were on break." Arnold countered, nodding toward the registers.

Letting out a frustrated noise, she stomped her foot, and tightly crossed her arms against her stomach. Knowing that she wasn't going to wiggle or giggle her way out of this confrontation, the girl huffed and turned on her heel, and marched to the stock room with Arnold following directly behind her. Perhaps if she proved to be unwilling to talk, he wouldn't insist on it. She shoved the beat up double doors open, and took a few brisk steps in, twisted around and allowed the doors to _swoosh_ back in place before she gave a rather snotty eye to her ex.

"Well?"

"Give me my phone back," Arnold instructed, not aspiring to a drawn out conversation with the younger teen.

Candace blinked rapidly in response before she narrowed her eyes on him. "You don't _have_ a phone."

"Not currently because _you _have it," he responded, "don't bother denying it, my mom called, or tried to call me last night and _you _answered." His height and the uncharacteristic icy edge to his voice had the girl huffing and marching to her locker on the back wall, next to the fire exit.

Taking it from her purse, the girl turned and slapped it into his open palm. "There, choke on it."

Arnold rolled his eyes and let out a long breath as he pressed the power button. Thankfully, the battery was still half full. There were a few missed calls from his parents, one from Gerald, and one application that had an update. Ignoring those, he pressed the spot above the smiling conversation bubble on the screen that opened his text mailbox.

What he read had his entire world knocked off kilter. There were messages received and returned for _hours_. Almost the entire time after he had broken up with Candace, there were pleading, worried texts from Helga. She wrote about her concern that Olivia wasn't eating, she wasn't playing, and her breathing was labored. There were several messages begging for him to come back so they could go to the vet.

"_…I don't want to do this alone…_" was in one message, near the very end of the conversation. Helga _never _admitted a weakness. Not even when he would catch her crying or hurt, she would call him stupid or crazy and write off the tears as something being in her eyes. For her to reach out to him—and for that outstretched hand to be so viciously slapped—

All the replies that Candace had sent were beyond heartless; they were, to Arnold, flat out evil. The younger girl told Helga to grow a spine, to leave 'him' alone, and that he was busy having a life. What his ex-girlfriend had responded with to Helga's plea of not having to take Olivia to the vet alone was the merciless thing he ever read.

"_…good time to grow-up, big baby."_

"Why?" He breathed out, his green eyes burning as the barbed, hateful words that Candace had messaged to Helga the night before made his heart twist into a new kind of hurt.

"_Why_?" The girl asked tartly, "You _dumped _me, Arnold. You dumped me under some stupid 'because it isn't working out' reason. I _knew _you were hitting it up with Helga but you couldn't man up and say _that_, oh no, always have to be the nicey-nice, _spineless_ guy."

"Why did you drag Helga into this? This was between _us._" He demanded, bypassing her insults as his anger slowly ate away the sorrow. "It had _nothing _to do with her."

"It had _everything _to do with her!" Candace stomped her foot and shot her arms straight to her side. "Ever since she started hanging out with you, you've been totally done with me and it's because of _her_. _She _told you to break up with me, didn't she? Didn't she!"

"_No_," Arnold said firmly, shoving the phone deep into his jeans' pocket. "She's the reason I didn't break with you _on _Christmas. She told me that to do so would be too mean, and I listened to her. I wish I hadn't. If I had just broken up with you and gotten over with, I wouldn't have given you the opportunity to hurt her and Olivia like this!"

"Who the heck is Olivia?" Candace questioned, before sarcastically adding. "Is that your pet name for —" He slammed his good hand into the lockers by Candace's head, causing the girl to yelp and jump in surprise.

"_Olivia_," Arnold said in a low, too calm voice as he leaned in marginally over the stunned female "was one of mine and Helga's _kittens_ that _died_ last night." He kept his tone deep, to make sure his throat didn't tighten with the betrayal he felt from his ex, and knowing it was probably that bitter emotion of deceitfulness and so much more that Helga was harboring toward him at that very moment.

"Your kitten? It died?" Candace's slowly looked down, her brain scrambling to make his words a lie.

"_Yes_," he answered icily. "And Helga was _alone_ when it happened." He pushed off the wall and jerked his face away, clamping his eyes shut, willing the tears to hold off a little bit longer. The pain of losing Olivia, and then _Helga _was still an open and very raw wound.

"I—I didn't know—"

"Thanks to you; neither did I." Arnold had to find Helga. Now that he knew what really happened, what she _thought _he had said to her (and if it had been true, he would have completely deserved the stinging slap she'd given him the night before) and who was to blame, he had to set it right.

"Don't talk to me," the boy instructed, a sliver of the affliction he was suffering slipping into his voice. "I don't want you to even acknowledge me at school, on the street, or anywhere. I won't hate someone, but I can't forgive you right now."

With that said, Arnold turned and stormed out of the stock room. Candace stood there, one hand rubbing the opposite upper arm to chase off the chill she suddenly felt.

"So that's what really happened," Came a smooth, wintry voice from her right.

Turning her attention to the voice, what was left of her scattered thoughts burned away under the empty gaze Helga was giving her. Fear struck at the younger teen's core, but a voice from within stated in a small, but clear voice: you deserve to be punished. The terror turned into regret and with a hollow laugh the girl spoke.

"Go ahead," the brunette permitted. "Punch me if you want. There'll be no witnesses here."

The blonde canted her head to the side, studying the employee, as if to size her up. Helga could easy snap the girl in half, chew her up, and spit her out. It would be easy to bully the girl into keeping quiet afterwards. However, there was one thing the blonde had learned over the years. No matter how much pain she made someone else experience, hers never transferred to the other person. She would still be aching and just as angry.

"I'm not going to hit you," Helga stated flatly, pushing off the wall she had leaned against.

Candace rolled her eyes, "Why not, I deserve it, don't I?"

"Maybe, but you don't deserve to feel better," the blonde waited until she was sure that her employee gave her eye contact again, made sure that the silent and somber unspoken threat and promise was understood before Helga turned away, heading out the back door exit of the store.


End file.
